Stopgap
by LizzieV
Summary: Helyka. H.G./Myka implied, established, broken, regrowing relationship. Spoilers from "Buried" through "The 40th floor" currently. This story works within canon to explain what REALLY happened to H.G. when season 2 ended ...Anonymous reviews allowed
1. Three

Disclaimer: Pretty sure Syfy owns everything I care for, even the soul of Jaime Murray(who-I-wrote-a-fan-letter-to-and-have-yet-to-receive-a-response) …also, I'm not making any money from this story. Also, is "3…2…1" (of which I freely spoil) some sort of test for the Steampunk-y spinoff we've heard rumors about? Also,…just kidding, that's it, then?

A/N: Why do they keep bringing H.G. back? I then have to 1) drink wine and 2) write about it! Gah!

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><p><strong>Stop-gap<strong>

Myka kept telling herself that the reason she'd asked the Regents for H.G.'s help on this particular case was because the disgraced agent was the only person who could. Myka kept having to tell herself this little exaggeration because she was trying to keep the real reason for asking buried deep within her psyche: she wanted—needed—to see the other woman.

That her request had been granted was of equal astonishment to the recently-returned agent. With a flick of his wrist, Artie returned H.G. to the command center. Or the semblance of Helena that Myka had become accustomed to. Their eyes met and Myka instantly had to turn away, blinking back tears of shock. When she was able to look back at the scene with composure intact, Myka became instantly aware of the glare emanating from Pete's direction.

This was going to be fun.

After explaining the case to all the players with surprise efficiency, Artie returned H.G. to her prison and wisely handed the control piece to Myka. If he'd handed it to Pete as he was first inclined then the device would surely have been "lost in checked baggage" along the way. Artie had no way of knowing that Myka would reactivate the sphere as soon as she was alone...

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><p>Once in the comforts of her own room feigning the necessity to pack, Myka Bering rested the globe on her nightstand and twisted. Helena was instantly before her.<p>

The younger agent didn't even give the hologram time to react before the deluge of questions and judgments escaped her mouth. "Really? You slept with your Artie? And you thought that was okay? Oh no, you just did it to manipulate him. To have him under your spell—charms—just long enough to be twisted to your own bidding—"

"Right then. Just kindly let me know when you have finished," Helena responded with as much force as a hologram could possibly summon. The projected woman crossed her arms along her chest, scrunching the lavender scarf she wore so stylishly. H.G. took Myka throwing clothes haphazardly in a duffel as a sign that she could interrupt the rant. "Mr. Crowley and I were a very complicated matter best left to century past. Perhaps I did manipulate him for my own doing, yet you must understand that I recognized from very early on that his allegiance lied not with the Warehouse itself, but with the Crown." H.G. sighed. "I don't expect you to understand, Myka. It was a different place. A different time."

Myka stormed into her bathroom to collect her toiletries. She kept a liter plastic bag at the ready with mini shampoos and creams for impromptu flights such as this. Holo-Helena followed her in.

"But that's not really what this tiff is about, is it? I've become rather adept at recognizing tinges of jealously, Myka." The younger woman looked up from her packing into the sink mirror and easily picked up the reflection of H.G. standing right behind her. If Myka was being honest with herself, it physically hurt to be this close to the woman and not be able to touch her. "It's ignorant to believe that I didn't have a past live—past lovers—previous to you, darling."

"You've lost the right to 'darling' me." Both women stopped and just stared at one another, each looking straight ahead into the looking glass.

"Apologies on my part are beginning to sound hollow. I'm at a loss. I truly am." Helena fought the urge to reach out and touch the straightened locks that appeared so close. "What is it you want from me?"

"What I've always wanted from you, Helena." Myka turned to face the projection she often fantasized was real. "The truth."

"The truth is that you were much more than Crowley or any other man or woman I ever aligned myself with." H.G. paused, "Myka Bering, you are unique." The younger woman couldn't help but crack a sly smile at hearing Helena's confession. She quickly covered her mirth and made her way back the nightstand and looked long and hard at the image of the woman she once loved projected before her.

"I can't help but believe you when you say that." A slight flush covered the agent's cheeks as she continued, "I'm going to…turn you off now, for lack of a better phrase."

Helena took a step towards the woman before responding. "Myka, as long as you are the one 'turning me off' and you are the last sight I see as I disappear…I find myself able to cling to hope as I dared not hoped before." The older woman grasped her necklace as her companion turned the sphere closed.

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><p>On the flight to Ohio while boarding the plane, Myka had to stop the prying fingers of an eight-year old who mistook the device for a magic eight ball. Now, she held the orb close to her body and absently caressed the rounded sides as they lifted off. The magic within was hers alone.<p>

She agreed with Pete to keep H.G. at bay for the time being to save on flight expenses (contrary to popular belief, holographic projections don't fly free). But she was more than willing to concur if it allowed her some quiet time to reflect on what was going on. Myka leaned back in her aisle seat and let her eyes slip closed as she remembered what Helena had said to her immediately prior to her deactivation. _To hope as I dared not hoped before._ Yes, it was a flair for the dramatic, but that was the cost of doing their particular type of business. Time travel, holograms…hope. Myka allowed a smile to creep back onto her face.

As she settled further into her seat, trying at the impossible of actually getting comfortable on a flight, she felt something brush the back of her hand. Her eyes instantly opened and went on the alert.

Pete cleared his throat. "Uh, if you want to take a nap I can play wi—hold—H.G. for you. I mean, if it will help you relax more or something."

Myka's alertness faded to a glare as she faced her partner and stated clearly so there would be no room for misunderstanding, "Pete, no touch-y!" She reclined into her seat and once again closed her eyes, holding the orb that much tighter…

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><p>AN 2: Hmmm…this was supposed to be a one-part, one-shot but I have to re-watch the episode to finish this ficlet. It really shouldn't take more than a day or two to complete. Probably just one more bottle of wine…tops. :)


	2. Two

A/N: Dedicated to RagnarWolf, LOCISVU, W13fangirl, and femsassy for their very encouraging reviews. Thanks times infinity!

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><p><strong>Stop-gap<strong>

**part two**

At the crash site in Ohio, things quickly turned awkward. A situation Myka was soon becoming accustomed to whenever Pete and H.G. were in the same vicinity. This was more than just Pete's usual agent ribbing. This was so personal that it scared Myka with its intensity. She knew, even in holographic form, Helena could pick up on the seething rage directed at her. As Pete walked towards the barn, H.G. did her best to pull Myka aside for a quick moment. The British beauty attempted to grab Myka's hand to no avail.

Being a projection was something Helena would never get used to.

"Myka, please. A moment," the older woman whispered just loud enough to be heard. When Agent Bering turned, it pained Helena to see the fleeting expression of profound sadness that seemed to manifest whenever Myka met her gaze.

"Yes?" Myka responded a little more exasperated than she liked. She immediately retreated. "Look, I know he's riding you pretty hard but I can't argue that it's not justified. A majority of his experiences with you have been 'bad news.'"

H.G. bit back her initial response and took a deep breath before continuing. "I understand." Actually, she was just becoming really good at acting. It'd become a rather necessary trait since returning to this time. "And though it may be rather unnecessary to state—given your complete control of my existence in this realm—I nonetheless wanted to inform you that I recognize the need for you to deactivate me at will. And if it makes it at all easier for you to do so, you have my consent."

Myka allowed Helena's words to marinate, nodding a few moments later once she realized it could be an easy way to diffuse a tense situation without opening herself to rebuke if she tried to defend H.G. any more than she already had. It was win-win: Myka could protect H.G. from harsh words _and_ not be painted as a volcano-creating-super-villain sympathizer. "Okay." She let the slightest of a sideways smile escape before continuing with a "thank you." Little did Agent Bering know she'd be testing this new permission minutes later as Pete began yet another barrage of bad sentiment towards H.G, letting his holographism reign.

Turning Helena off, Myka did her best to reassure Pete that she was back for good. The depths of her impulsive decision to leave the Warehouse—even for such a short time—was still being realized. At least she hoped it was her recent departure that was riling him up. She didn't like the sound of him saying "It still doesn't change the fact that—" and not finishing the sentence. Did Pete know Myka so well that he had picked up on the short-lived romance she had shared with H.G.? She pushed the thought from her mind and began reasserting possible scenarios for solving their case.

Either way, it was still Pete, and she owed him every apology until the end of their time together for ditching her partner.

"Tell you what, I'm buying you lunch." Myka knew from plenty of experience that the quickest way back into Pete's good graces, however temporary, was through his stomach. "Let's get something really bad for us."

"Pardon me Miss Bering, but have you ever had the distinct pleasure of nacho fries?" Pete asked in his self-named "Grey Poupon" voice. All Myka could do was shake her head at Pete's uniqueness as the pair made their way towards the car.

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><p>Even though H.G. had made it clear that Myka could discretionally deactivate her, it was still a tad bit disconcerting to be "re-awakened" in a different environment. And to have her first sight be Pete.<p>

"Oh, is it time for you to berate me more?" H.G.'s well of patience was definitely not unlimited. But she quickly regained her composure, assessing the necessity to defuse this certifiable lunatic in possession of a rather dangerous artifact before more people were injured.

To say it was getting easier recounting the tale of her daughter would be a falsehood. It was the hardest part of living within the life the Regents had given her; constantly opening the festering wound of Christina's murder to add validity to her supposed vendetta against the world.

At least Pete seemed to have bought it. Myka always had, dear girl.

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><p>Back at the Warehouse, Myka began the cataloguing process for the horn not minding that H.G. was tagging along. It was like falling in step with old times and Myka, for once, indulged in the feeling instead of harping on the fact that it would soon be taken away again.<p>

Helena couldn't help herself when she looked into those dark eyes. "We did make a good team, didn't we?"

"We did. And then you—," Myka trailed off. "I just wish you would have realized that sooner." Helena knew if she looked at the younger woman much longer, she really would end up going off the deep end.

"So do I." H.G. let the lie flow freely from her lips, comforted by the fact that it was a fib that would make Myka feel better. She knew it didn't matter how well they worked together or how much she'd grown to care for the younger agent, the outcome had been out of her hands.

Having Pete join them and seem a smidgen more receptive to her consultation services made the entire trip slightly more worthwhile in H.G.'s mind.

Having Myka look at her again with that old glimmer made the trip priceless. Their eyes met a final time and Myka whispered, "Goodbye, Helena."

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><p>Mrs. Frederick brought a half-full glass of a deep red wine to H.G. as the younger woman's consciousness rejoined her body and she sank into a well-placed recliner. The former agent hunched over, legs splayed apart as she held the glass between her with both hands. It was easy to discern how drained she was; mentally and physically.<p>

"If it is any consolation, you do make a good team."

Helena let out a rather undignified snort at the Caretaker's attempt to raise her spirits. "Do you ever envision a time when it would be possible for me to tell her—them, what _has _and is actually transpiring?" she queried, her British accent that much thicker because of her exhaustion.

"Perhaps." Mrs. Frederick backed away from the unusually melancholy woman, but remained standing. "Maybe the opportunity will present itself next time."

"Next time. Always next time." Helena sighed, she truly did not know if she could handle a next time. "Her hair, Irene. Have you noticed her hair?"

"I imagine it is just as hard on her as it is on you." Mrs. Frederick said, trying to placate her operative.

"As much as it pains me to say, it quite frankly must be harder on her." Helena took a healthy sip of the merlot she'd been poured. "I have something she does not have the luxury to possess at this given moment."

"And what would that be?" Irene questioned curiously.

"All she's ever wanted from me." Helena let her eyes slide closed, releasing a lone tear that had begun to form. She didn't even bother wiping it away before replying, "The truth."

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><p>AN: Is this fandom dead? There are a bunch of fantastic stories out there by a variety of very talented writers and no reviews. This is discouraging…


	3. One

A/N: Thirteen reviews! That's the magic number that deserves an update! Thanks to **jcsgc1**, **tigga123**, **Leanne17**, **Ayno**t, **sweetmint101**, **Katie**, **anonymous**, **athena**, and **Wicca678** for reviewing the last chapter, this one's for you! I thought I'd just end on a cliffhanger, but the reviews are driving me to continue with this departure from canon. It's your fault! Also, thanks to Adele for making yet another song that depresses me beyond words…the lyrics to "Someone Like You" are shamelessly used within this chapter.

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><p><strong>Stop-gap<strong>

**part three**

Helena awoke to steady streams of daylight flowing through the crack in the curtains of her room. One of the few perks of not having steady employment was the ability to sleep in whenever the mood suited her. And after her brief foray with Myka and the crew to secure Joshua's Horn, H.G. found herself in such a mood. She had no idea what time it was, and frankly didn't care.

Trying to sink further into the depths of her bed's duvet she brought a plush pillow to rest over her head, essentially bringing her back to black. Rays of sunshine were for someone who had something to look forward to. Helena Wells was not such a person.

The pillow fantastically blocked the sun from her consciousness but was doing very little to protect the British beauty from the music being played in the next room. No doubt the culprit was her—for all intents and purposes—lady in waiting, Claire. Ever since she'd been "taken into custody" by the Regents after what transpired in Wyoming, a young woman named Claire McDonnell had been assigned to meet her everyday needs.

"Claire." H.G. had meant to speak the name more commandingly, but her voice cracked at the utterance. Her mouth was unspeakably dry, more than likely due to the heavy amounts of red wine she had imbibed the night before. Of course the water glass on her bedside table was decidedly empty. "Claire!" This time the summons came out much more clearly.

Removing the pillow to await her help's arrival allowed Helena to easily discern the lyrics to the noise that so harshly kept her from the numbness of sleep…

_I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited, but I couldn't stay away. Couldn't fight it. _

The soulful voice echoed her own sentiment exactly. Helena wasn't one for modern music, but this tune sang for her. When the Regents had told her that Myka had requested her help on the latest mission, they'd left it up to Helena on whether or not she'd accept. But how could she refuse?

_I hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded…That for me it isn't over._

She knew she hadn't played fair when it came to her dealings with Myka the past couple days. Some might characterize H.G.'s actions as leading the younger woman on in a relationship that had the slimmest possibility of success. But when their eyes met a final time right before Myka deactivated the projection device…Helena was reassured that the need to figure out where _this_ was going was a mutual one.

_Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead._

It seemed to be nothing but hurt recently.

After what seemed like eons, Claire finally made her presence known in Helena's bedchamber with a rather exasperated "Yes, Miss?" The girl—no more than twenty-six by H.G.'s estimates—was of the attractive sort: fiery red hair pulled back in a severe ponytail, well-manicured hands and alabaster skin offset with the slightest smattering of freckles. It seemed the Regents loved to test and tempt her at every turn.

"Please, for the sympathy of my nerves, shut that noise off!" H.G. sat up against the headboard, running a trembling hand through mussed hair.

"I'm sorry, Miss. It's just that I recently broke up with my boyfriend and her music really helps with the pain." _Oh, the non-existent personal filter of the young,_ Helena mused to herself. Why did her maid feel the particular need to share useless information?

"Pain? Pain, girl? You know nothing of pain. If your security clearance was only higher, I would explain in graphic detail what pain truly is." Yes, Helena realized she was being harsh to a civilian worker who obviously had no idea who she was really working for…but it felt good to express her anger, however ill-placed. The wine headache only magnified H.G.'s attitude of not putting up with any nonsense this good morning. But the raven-haired woman quickly thought better of offending the person in charge of making her meals, "My apologies, I just feel positively dreadful this morning. Are there any pressing matters to attend to?"

"Mrs. Frederic called earlier and said your request to meet with Mr. Kosan had been approved. He'll be here at one this afternoon for drinks."

"And, pray tell, what is the current time?" H.G. was trying to rein in her temper, but she couldn't stop the sarcastic tone from escaping.

"Noon." The girl had the sense to sound sheepish.

"And you were planning on waking me when?" The girl's sudden and rather becoming blush placated H.G.'s anger at having such a short time to ready herself for the Decision Maker. "Never mind, girl. Just draw the bath and ready my clothes." Claire curtseyed as she left the room though there was really no need for such ceremony. Helena quickly remembered and yelled after the retreating figure, "And, for the love of all things holy, bring me some bloody water!"

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><p>Mr. Kosan was already seated at the two-seater table next to the lone solarium window by the time Helena arrived. It seemed he'd taken the liberty of pouring for her. She only hoped it was something rather strong. As soon as she was seated, he began.<p>

"Mrs. Frederic informed me of the successes of your last mission. I wanted to express my personal congratulations on a job well done, subRegent Wells." The even tones that made up Kosan's speaking voice could just as easily put you at ease or unnerve a lesser person. Especially with the use of such an auspicious title as "subRegent"; Helena had been made aware that in order to become a full Regent (assuming the opening left by Mr. Valda's demise), a one-year trial period was necessary. _All the work, none of the diversion,_ she thought to herself.

"I thank you for the compliment. It was a team effort." She looked at the man over the lip of her drinking glass as she took a sip of the smooth Bourbon. She was becoming quite fond of the uniquely American spirit. "But you know why I really asked for your audience."

"What you ask is impossible to grant, Ms. Wells. But I do want you to understand the sincere gratitude the Regents would like to express to you for all your work up to this point. We understand that you choose to continue your work with us and were under no obligation to do so after the FTX this past year." If Mr. Kosan hadn't been the Regent authority, he would have had a very successful career as a salesman. He was quite skilled at deception and diffusion.

"Again, _I thank you_, but I see no good reason for my request not to be met. I understand I would be giving up my chance at regency, and do so freely. Once the Warehouse 13 operatives are informed that my initial re-instatement and the events occurring thereafter were part of a training exercise…I do not see a proper reason why I should not be allowed to rejoin them on a permanent basis as a field agent."

"We can't have you compromise the Warehouse agents." Once he said it, it stung.

"Mr. Kosan, I believe you misspoke." H.G. hit him with a laser stare, suddenly unafraid of the power over her future this man possessed. "You cannot allow me to compromise Warehouse agents unless it suits the needs of the Regents to test their abilities. It was a rather complex training exercise you put them through, wasn't it?"

"We have to be secure in the knowledge that we have the very best agents at our disposal." It was easy to pick up he had no qualms over what they'd done.

"And you do, proven by the fact that they took down the ultimate in villainous masterminds: me."

"You played the part well, followed our script to the T. And you prevented the use of the exit strategy on numerous occasions so we could see the entire situation play out." Kosan raised his glass in Helena's direction before taking a sip. As he put the tumbler down, she saw what she was looking for in his eyes. _And here it comes_, she thought, pleased with her masterful mix of rage and reticence that had gotten her what she wanted on more than one occasion.

"After reviewing the situation, all I can offer you is a sort of 'stopgap'." Kosan took another sip before continuing, "a temporary solution to what troubles you." He made it clear he knew the real reason she was pursuing this course of action so determinedly: Myka Bering. "It also may prove a way to show you at last that if your request was met within the parameters that you'd wish, the Warehouse work environment would be severely impacted. And not for its betterment."

Helena heard nothing of his warnings; she just heard the word 'solution.' "How shall we proceed?" She asked eagerly.

"Because I like you so much, I'll give you a choice." Kosan's wry smile made an usual appearance. "We can use the projection device to transport the consciousness of the Warehouse agents here—while they sleep—and you will have the opportunity to explain what happened in Wyoming to them. Or we can arrange to have them physically brought to this location. Either way, we will monitor the proceedings completely and if we are not one-hundred percent satisfied with their resulting behaviors after they are told the truth, we will wipe their short-term memories of the entire transaction and they will continue to believe you are our held prisoner."

Kosan could see the hope radiating from Ms. Wells' eyes and it saddened him to think that this little experiment had very little chance of proving successful. "The caveat that remains is that all current team members must demonstrate sufficient trust in your abilities to become a field agent alongside them. All of them." The "even Artie" was implied, not spoken.

"Understood." Helena had faith that once they were all aware of what actually transpired, they would gladly welcome her back. "I recommend that I have a chance to…for lack of a better term, 'practice' my confession with one of the agents. I request that Pete Lattimer be brought before me in holographic form."

"Very well." Kosan shook his head, showing his pessimism but comforted by the fact that they had the harmless mind-wipe technique at their disposal. "We'll arrange it for tomorrow night." He stood from the table and made to shake Helena's hand as she rose from her chair. "If you have second thoughts, don't hesitate to contact me." He squeezed her hand, pressing into her flesh the feeling that he wanted her to have second thoughts.

"Tomorrow night then. Good day, Mr. Kosan." And with that, Helena turned and headed towards her study to prepare. She didn't allow her smile to form until after she was out of his view.

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><p>AN: Oooooo...even I'm excited! Haha. Reviews make my fingers type faster, I'm just sayin'...


	4. Patience is a Virtue

A/N: This is why the story is tagged "humor"… because "attempts at humor" is not an option offered for classification. Haha.

Happy Weekend! In celebration of my birth month (yay August!), I am really trying to write more fanfiction. This is an extremely long chapter; I probably should have split it in two. Double the reviews!

Also, you people are fantastic! I retract my previous comments concerning the death of the fandom. It is very much alive. Special thanks to **tigga123, North, Leanne17, Katie, Wicca678, elizabethlives, Speak_Volumes_Silently, anonymous, jcsgc1, anonymous, Macabre_Stranger, and LOCISVU **for reviewing the last chapter (additional kudos to **Berolina **for emerging from self-proclaimed lurker-status to review! Yay!). Onwards and upwards!

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><p><strong>Stop-gap<strong>

**Part four**

Helena G. Wells awoke this morning well-refreshed and with a smile on her face; such a stark contrast to yesterday morning…or the morning before that, for that matter.

It had been rather a long time since she'd had a restful night's sleep. Trying to recall the last time took her back to South Dakota. It was the night after Myka and Pete had used her "time machine" to inhabit the bodies of Jack and Rebecca. Transferring their consciousnesses five decades earlier to track down a dagger artifact that turned its victims to glass had been a glowing success. Besides the bit in the middle where they had almost died.

After the obligatory celebrations for a job well done, Myka had made a point of retiring to Helena's room and spending the night. Falling asleep in her arms had been the closest to normal H.G. had felt since her de-Bronzing.

At that point, the newly-reinstated agent had only the promise of deception lurking in the future: the Regents had yet to outline the "training exercise" Ms. Wells would have to facilitate to meet the agreed-upon requirements for becoming a part of Warehouse society once more. She remembered doing everything in her powers to push that particular stipulation to the farthest recesses of her mind, until that time came. It'd been one, maybe two weeks before the FTX had been finalized and approved by the Regents and they'd all been sent to Egypt. And for that brief passage of time, Helena gave herself completely to Myka.

H.G. pulled herself from her bed and away from lingering thoughts of her former lover. She was determined to have a good day and if she spent any more time dwelling on times past, it would make her irreparably sad in facing the future. And her future started today.

Her maid servant walked in, as if on cue, with a cup of strong-brewed coffee giving off the most delicious aroma. Claire placed the steaming mug on the nightstand and waited for instruction.

"Time?" H.G. asked, picking up the drink and leaning against the headboard to enjoy it.

"10:30, Miss."

"Messages?" Helena took another sip as she waited for a response, allowing her eyelids to flutter closed in appreciation of the drink.

"Mr. Kosan said tonight's 'activity' has an estimated start time of 11:00pm. He said you would understand the reason for there not being a set time of commencement?" It was tough just being the messenger.

"I do." H.G. drawled out the response, remembering Pete Lattimer's sleep schedule being rather erratic even on a good night. She had no doubt there were measures in place to help him on his slumberous journey in the event it got too late into the evening. "Thank you, Claire. You have been most attentive."

The red-head instantly tried to cover the shocked expression that had formed on her attractive face. In the time she'd been assigned to Miss Wells' care, she had not known her to be complimentary in the least.

"Claire, a query. What do you suggest I do to pass the time? I find I have rather a bit of pent up energy this morning and feel spending time in the library or workshop would not do me any good."

"Hmm, have you tried the gym? We have a really nice one downstairs…"

"Who is this Jim? And why is he downstairs?" H.G. narrowed her eyes suspiciously, holding the coffee mug in place in front of her lips.

"You know, uh, gymnasium? For exercise?" The puzzled expression lingered on H.G.'s face as Claire continued her explanation. "Um, body movements that promote good health?"

"Oh! Calisthenics, girl! Be smart about it, then." The older woman replaced the cup on her bedside table and jumped out of bed.

"Would you like me to prepare some clothes?" Claire just knew today was going to be a weird day. Scratch that, _weirder_ _than normal_ day.

"No, no. I will manage myself. But if you would be so kind to join me in the 'gym' in a few minutes. I will most likely be in need of assistance." And she would not mind having the company of another.

"Not a problem, Miss. I'll go grab some water bottles and meet you down there. It's three doors to the left of the solarium." The red-head turned to leave.

"Hot water bottles for sore muscles? I doubt that will be a necessity until tomorrow." H.G. pondered the use of the rubbery devices.

"Um, no. Cold ones for drinking." The younger woman made to close the door as she answered. Sometimes Claire wondered if her mistress had been living under a rock for the past century or so…

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><p>When H.G. finally arrived at the gym, Claire was waiting for her. Claire, however, wasn't expecting the choice in attire her employer thought appropriate. The evidence of her astonishment must have been clear on her face.<p>

"Are you properly scandalized, child? I forwent the skirt overlaying my bloomers and you look like you have seen a ghost!" H.G. stood before her young servant in a deep blue jumpsuit-type ensemble that hadn't seen the light of day this side of the 1900s. "Women's liberation and all." Then H.G. looked at what Claire was wearing: pink running shorts and a sports tank top. No tights, definitely no bloomers. "Ah, I see the error. Overdressed, then. I just cannot win with you people. Too revealing for an archaeological dig, but not revealing enough for calisthenics."

"How would you even exercise in something like that? I'm pretty sure all that material would get caught in the treadmill." The young woman was amazed they made outfits with that much fabric.

"Treadmill?" Claire pointed to one of the machines and turned it on to demonstrate the motion. H.G. did not look pleased at all. "And you say people use this device to promote good health? I believe they were initially invented for use in correctional facilities to reform prisoners."

"Sometimes when you're running on it, it feels that way. But it's a good workout! Want to try it?"

"Claire, what would you say to a walk about the property instead? I believe I could benefit from the fresh air." Helena decided this 'gym' business was not for her.

"That'll be fine. But why don't I get you something to change into that is a little more functional." Claire shook her head as she went upstairs to retrieve some proper walking clothes.

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><p>When H.G. had been brought the facility, she hadn't asked many questions as to its physical location. She didn't care. All she knew was she was a two-hour private plane flight away from a Myka who hated every fibre of her being.<p>

Recently, she discerned that the property where she was staying was set in Northern New Mexico, a town named Taos. Walking along the little path running parallel to the palatial mansion (one of many around the world the Regents used as safe houses), she began to appreciate the majestic desert landscape. Helena filled her lungs with the clean air.

"Claire, do tell me about this former beau of yours." She couldn't have them walking in complete silence, now could she?

"Miss?" The younger woman didn't know if she heard the question right.

"I recall you mentioned you recently 'broke up' with a man you were courting. I was curious as to why." H.G. was curious if it had anything to do with one of parties threatening an apocalypse on the world. Then she could relate.

Claire didn't know what to make of a sudden interest in her personal life, but she was a young girl unafraid to share intimate details. "Well, it was just too serious. I'm still in college for geez sake and can't be thinking about marriage!" The bitterness came out uncensored. "He really was perfect though, very thoughtful and super cute."

"Was he handsome?" H.G. inquired, smiling and wringing her fingers.

"Like I said, super cute." Claire rolled her eyes at the redundancy.

"I heard 'acute.' My apologies." Though Americans should be apologizing to _her_ for ruining the Queen's English. "You ended your relationship because he wanted marriage? That seems counterintuitive. Do you not want a commitment with another?" H.G. couldn't understand not wanting to settle down with the one you love. Especially in a bed and breakfast situated in rural South Dakota…

"Eventually, yes. But I have all the time in the world." Claire extended her arms out to the open sky, turning playfully about in circles along the dirt trail.

"A bit of wisdom to be taken at will, my girl: time is not something that plays by anyone's rules. Enjoy love when it enters your life, because it may not always be your choice when it leaves." The blue sky quickly shifted to grey as pelting rain fell freely from the heavens from a sudden summer storm. The walk back to the residence was made in silence.

* * *

><p>Luckily for the sake of Helena's sanity, Mrs. Frederic arrived to dine with the subRegent. After a leisurely dinner where many an artifact-hunting story was shared, the two made their way to a room next to the downstairs study. It seemed to be some sort of observation room. Mrs. F flipped a few switches and bulky screens zapped to life, seeming to have about the same amount of resolution to them as a Farnsworth on a cloudy day.<p>

"You know, I've heard of this new advance in television technology which allows the images to be broadcast in high-definition." H.G. commented.

"Budget cuts, Ms. Wells. We still are a governmental unit." Mrs. F raised an eyebrow. "Have you _seen_ the electricity bill for the Warehouse this past month? We used more kilowatts in thirty _days_ than the entire country of Belize uses in five _years_."

"Tell you what, then. I won't litigate for the hazard pay due me whilst Bronzed. That should cover expenses for a very sizeable screen and all its allotted electricity usage." H.G. couldn't help but grin and kept smiling long enough for Irene to begin mimicking the expression.

"Incorrigible." Mrs. Frederic got a faraway look on her face and turned to Helena. "Okay, we're ready to begin." The older woman handed H.G. the holographic control device and directed her to the next room.

* * *

><p>Taking a deep breath, Helena activated the device and awaited the appearance of her former colleague. She didn't have to wait long; the display was instantaneous.<p>

"Oh man, H.G.! What are you doing here?" Pete couldn't believe his eyes. Before him stood a bona fide volcano-causing super villain.

"What am I doing here? The question you should be asking yourself, Agent Lattimer, is what are _you_ doing here?"Helena gestured at their surroundings until the unfamiliarity of the environment clicked within his mind.

"Woah. H.G.! What am I doing here?" Pete had had some pretty wicked dreams in his time, but they usually involved flying or being buried in donuts. Never a nighttime journey where he came face-to-face with his arch-nemesis.

There was a knock on the door and H.G. gave her verbal consent for entrance.

"Ma'am, as you requested." Claire entered and handed a bowl brimming with some sort of strong-smelling orangey nuggets to her mistress. Noticing Pete standing across the room, the young woman quickly acknowledged the visitor. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you had company." The red-headed beauty greeted Lattimer with a shy smile.

"Hey hey hey!" He sing-songed. Remembering himself, Pete made to tip the invisible fedora perched on his head and growled a smooth, "And what is your name, schweetheart?"

"That will be all, Claire." H.G. leveled her gaze towards the young woman and added an, "Out!" for good measure. The serving girl blushed and curtseyed before backing towards the door and making her way back the way she came. Helena would really have to discuss with Claire again that behavior such as curtseying should only be reserved for when the Queen of England calls. Must be the accent.

"It's so _hard_ to find good help these days," Pete mocked in a regal tone. H.G. raised an eyebrow, shifting the container she was holding from one hand to the other. The motion caught his eye. "Dude, are those what I think they are? Are those…CORN NUTS? I must be dreaming after all." After informing H.G. that they were, in fact, his favorite snack food of all time (though, really, it depends on the day of week)…the begging began. Pete wanted the Corn Nuts, and he wanted them bad.

"Oh, you would like some of these, then?" H.G. smiled wryly. "I'm more than willing to share. Here you go," she made the universal gesture for "catch" and as Pete obliged she threw in a "that's it now" before tossing a snack in the general direction of his awaiting hand. The salty tidbit sailed straight through.

"That never gets old, does it?" Helena had to keep herself from laughing at the expression forming on Pete's face. It was like someone just told him his puppy died. What she couldn't help herself from doing was pelting Pete's image with the remaining kernels. It was almost cathartic.

After a few more well-placed throws (to which Pete "owwed" even though they both know he didn't feel a thing), H.G. put the bowl down and picked up the control device. "Remember this?"

"Oh geez, you broke out of scary Regent prison and stole the magic eight ball that kept us all safe from world destruction." Then it hit him. "Wait, am _I _in scary Regent prison now? Do you know what they do to pretty boys in prison? No! I won't do it! Get your own soap!" If it was possible for a hologram to pull his hair out, Pete would be doing it.

"There is no 'scary Regent prison' and I most certainly did not 'break out.'" H.G. relayed emphatically. "But that does not mean I cannot have a little fun with you in holographic form." She quickly turned the device closed, sending Pete back to his body.

* * *

><p>It's like those dreams you have where you are falling from some unknown place of higher elevation and land on your bed with a "plunk" and wide eyes. Pete looked at the familiar sight of the ceiling above his bed and before he could even get out an expletive of any sort, he was yanked back…<p>

* * *

><p>"On. Off. On. Off. On" H.G. smiled wickedly as she spoke. "What a diversion! I can see why you seemed to enjoy this so!" Pete never had a chance to respond in between his sudden appearances…<p>

There was a knock at the door and before Helena could give permission for the person to gain entrance, Mrs. Frederic was standing next to her. The Caretaker did not have a pleased expression on her face, but H.G. had come to know her well enough that she was able to discern the slightest coloring of amusement in her eyes. "SubRegent Wells, don't you think it'd be best to continue with the operation? I don't think this is conducive to the task at hand."

"Mrs. F! Wtf, mate?" Pete slapped his hands to his face. "I _really_ need to stop eating salami before bed. These dreams are out-of-control." Letting his fingers slide slowly down his cheeks, it dawned on him to ask, "What the hell is a SubRegent?"

"Funny story, actually. You might want to get comfortable for this." H.G. turned to Irene and assured her with a nod that she would be getting down to business. H.G. and Pete were once again alone. "Why don't we sit on the floor?"

"And I won't fall through?"

"Probably not." Helena then began to tell Pete the details of the elaborate training exercise the Regents saw fit to put their Warehouse agents through, starting with her integration into the team after the incident in Russia and all the way through the trident trial in Wyoming. Pete didn't speak through the entire story, just listened attentively and tried to absorb her words. Finally she stopped.

"And Valda? Is he hanging out somewhere here too? Wherever 'here' is…" It was evident that the former Regent's death at the Warehouse 2 site was still affecting Agent Lattimer. Perhaps he had accumulated some unnecessary guilt in thinking he could have saved the man.

"No, Benedict truly lost his life. But he knew the consequences of the mission; he knew it was a real possibility that one or more of us would not make it out alive. He may have even planned it that way."

"Planned it? No one plans to die."

"Tricky business, the Warehouse, isn't it?" H.G. looked sympathetically at the young man.

"Okay." Pete looked her straight in the eyes and said it again, "okay."

"Okay?" H.G. remembered the term being similar to an affirmative response. It didn't seem to fit here.

"I believe you."

"That's it, then? That's all you have to say?"Helena was beyond flabbergasted. She expected at least a half-hearted attempt at fisticuffs from him.

"I'm not a complete fool, H.G. If Mrs. F is cool with you, I'm cool with you. Unless you brainwashed her. Or she's a hologram, too." Pete looked up for any possibilities he was missing. "Nah, not possible. It's cool. I'm cool."

"So, you would not be opposed to my re-instatement as a Warehouse field agent?"

"Do I get a raise or promotion?" Pete asked hopefully.

"Probably not." H.G. raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, that's fine. Just don't try to kill me again, okay?"

"I was never at any point truly trying to kill you. But I am very sorry about what transpired between you and Dr. Hernandez after the mission was complete."

"_That_ I'd rather not talk about." Pete exhaled. "Can I go now? I think being a hologram is playing with my bladder. I _really gotta go_, if you know what I mean."

"Of course. I…thank you, Agent Lattimer, for your understanding in the matter."

"No probs. And thanks again for your help in Ohio. The _Buckeye_ state thanks _you!_" Pete saluted as he stood, wary of disappearing with any sudden movements. "So, should we expect you at dinner tomorrow or something?"

"Or something. Good night, Pete." And with that, H.G. disengaged the device.

* * *

><p>Back in the observation room, Mrs. Frederic was sitting at one of the seats in front of the many display screens. She was specifically concerned with the screen on the bottom-right corner that now showed a peacefully asleep Pete Lattimer. Helena took the seat next to her.<p>

"That went better than expected." H.G. breathed out deeply.

"And from all the readings, he was telling the truth." Mrs. Frederic didn't show shock, she never really did.

"In any case, I request that his memory be wiped of the entire episode. We cannot have him be the one that tells the rest of the team, it is my responsibility to do so. It is, however, encouraging to know his response to the situation."

"Yes, encouraging. Mr. Kosan has informed me of a different proposition." Mrs. F informed her.

"Indeed?" H.G.'s interest was piqued.

"He believes if you can convince Agent Bering of your particular situation, that she would prove a valuable ally in informing the rest of the agents."

"Ha! He just believes she will be the hardest to win over and is setting me up for failure." H.G. shook her head slowly back and forth. "However, I accept his challenge and offer an amendment. I want to see Myka here in person." The "for as long as it takes" was unspoken yet understood.

"We'll arrange it." Irene stood to leave. "Try to get some rest, Helena." And with that, the Caretaker was gone. Standing to leave, H.G. noticed that the screen showing a sleeping Pete was still on. Deftly moving her fingers along one of the controls, she switched the images until it came to rest on the one she wanted to see the most.

"Sweet dreams, my darling," she whispered to the image of a sleeping Myka. "See you soon."

* * *

><p>AN: If TPTB wants H.G. to be bent on revenge, I'll play along. I've been waiting to get back at Pete for his mean-spiritedness towards her in "3…2…1". Review if you enjoyed or just to wish me a happy birthday (Aug. 31st)!


	5. Like Rain it sounded till it curved

A/N: Ugh, real life is really catching up to me: work and training for a 5k are ruling my world right now. But! I bought myself a staycation at our nicest hotel for the weekend and will have absolutely nothing to do but 1) write and 2) enjoy our City's film festival. I thought I'd throw ya'll a bone since the reviewers have been fantastic. This chapter is dedicated to **Katie, jcsgc1, anonymous, North, Fleebee, Berolina (thanks for the fantastic review!), LOCISVU, Avarenda, and tarebear23**. You all are why I keep with this! And a special dedication to Capt. Janeway who is in the next episode! Kate Mulgrew ftw!

* * *

><p><strong>Stop-gap<strong>

**Part Five**

_Rather early the next morning..._

The bright-red digital display registered four-eleven. The last time Helena had looked over at the clock it had said three-fifty-eight. Thirteen minutes had passed in which the raven-haired beauty had stared at the ceiling and pondered the rationale of digital timepieces. Their presentation so callous and leaving nothing to the imagination! Is it twelve after or thirteen after? Oh no! It is certainly and most-assuredly eleven after, lest nothing be left to chance with those neon numbers glaring at you.

Actually, now it was fifteen after. And still raining.

Realizing the fruitlessness of remaining in bed any longer, Helena tossed the sheets aside and went to stare out the window. Lightning relentlessly struck the desert landscape and backlit the beautiful mountains. H.G. would usually find herself taking the time to appreciate the magnificence of nature. Now all that preoccupied her thoughts was if this ill-timed monsoon storm would delay her reunion with Myka.

The knock at the door drew her swiftly from her reverie.

Answering the door, a sly smile formed on her face when Helena realized who was calling. "How do you always manage to appear at the most inopportune opportune times?" H.G. led Mrs. Frederic to a small table and chairs set against the corner of her bedroom and switched on a lamp. "I find myself unable to sleep."

"I imagined so. And that is why I thought it best to inform you that everything has been authorized for Agent Bering to be brought to this property. I will be going to retrieve her in a few hours, explain the situation to Agent Neilsen, etc," the older woman said matter-of-factly.

"You speak of her as if she is chattel." If H.G. hadn't given up smoking circa 1884, she would be tempted to light one up now.

"Still protective of her, I see. That will more than likely come in handy." Irene was a master-manipulator; it was practically a prerequisite of being a Warehouse Caretaker. She chose her words wisely and she had chosen her words to get a reaction from Helena.

"Irene, I am at a loss for what recourse to pursue where Myka is concerned. Any beginnings of an explanation sound hollow and self-serving. Perhaps it would be easier if I was this villainous monster and am now coming to her reformed." H.G. could muster nothing more than a half-hearted sigh.

"Like you said previously, she deserves the truth. The truth is sometimes the hardest pill to swallow."

"You Americans and your meaningless idioms." The British beauty chuckled to herself before continuing, "What gives me hope is that you are still speaking to me. You were just as much a pawn in the training exercise as any of the Warehouse agents. And given the nature of the connection inevitably formed between you and Warehouse 2…you perhaps had the most physical suffering to manage."

"I've had the luxury of working in our particular line of business for quite some time now. I understand why it had to be done and why I couldn't be told until it came to pass. Besides Artie, the other agents are relatively new to Warehouse operations. But they understand duty, and that might be your saving grace," the older woman offered up as advice.

"Do you truly believe I have a chance of convincing her—them—that I acted in the best interest of the program?" H.G. asked tentatively.

"Approached rationally, there is a good chance. But emotions are the epitome of irrationality. And the people we are dealing with are deep wells of emotion. All I can offer is a 'good luck' and a little something to help you sleep." Mrs. F placed a tiny blue pill on the table that separated them. "I'll show myself out."

* * *

><p>It was breakfast time at Leena's and all the current agents were gathered around the dining table enjoying delicious cooking. The 'pings' were on a downswing and it was one of the rare times that everyone was at home base. Claudia and Pete were having an animated conversation and all Myka could make out from the wild hand gestures coming from her partner was that it was something about Star Wars. He kept repeating the line "help me Obi Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope" in perfect Leia pitch. It was kind of creepy how well he could do it.<p>

Myka just shook her head and went back to her bowl of Muesli. Until Mrs. Frederic walked through the doorway...

"Agent Neilson, do you mind meeting me in the living room?" Mrs. F asked, though it really wasn't a question that Artie would comply. Myka was still chewing and couldn't get out a greeting before the two went into the next room…

"Artie, we're going to need Myka for an overnight mission. It may take anywhere from a few days to a week…depending on the situation."

"Should I even bother asking who this 'we're' is?" Artie huffed.

"You know how this works," was her only response.

"I do. And I thank you for the courtesy of pretending to ask for permission." The older agent sighed. "It's fine. I hesitate to say it out loud, but we're slow at the moment. And with Steve, we'll be fine if something pops up."

"I'll be taking her now then." The two re-entered the dining room and the whole team looked to them expectantly. Mrs. F motioned for Artie to relay the information.

"Myka, you're needed for a mission. It may take a couple days, so pack accordingly. Mrs. Frederic will escort you when you've put your things together." It was as business-like as they've heard Artie in a long while.

"Not fair! I want to go. Why does Myka _always_ get to go _everywhere_!" Pete stood up so quickly that a piece of his bacon fell to the floor.

"You want to participate in artifact audits too? Large room, endless boxes filled with endless amounts of paper with tiny handwriting…some in English." Artie asked his most spirited agent.

"April fool's! You know, Myks is _perfect_ for that particular mission. I'll just take the next one. Let's say: Bahamas. There's probably some bad artifact juju floating around there." Pete sat back down, retrieving his bacon from the hardwood. He at least blew on it before shoveling it into his mouth. "Havefrnmks," he mumbled before resuming storytime with Claudia.

"Thanks Pete." Myka wiped her mouth and took a final sip of coffee before standing. Leena shooed her off from carrying back her own dishes, letting the agent know she would do it for her. "I'll just be a few minutes, Mrs. F, and we can go." From the look Artie shot her, she knew she wasn't going to be doing any sort of audits.

* * *

><p>The ride in Mrs. Frederic's limo to the private landing strip was made in complete silence. Myka didn't know what to even ask concerning her travel and the older woman didn't offer up any information.<p>

Myka Bering boarded the plane with a quiet anticipation. The neurotic part of her personality (always just beneath the surface) savored the sense of accomplishment in being specifically chosen for a top-secret Warehouse mission. The more rational part wondered what kind of danger she would be exposing herself to. Spotting the only other occupant on the jet made both the rational and neurotic bits that much crazier.

"Hello, Mr. Kosan." Myka even managed to keep most of the surprise out of her voice.

"Hello, Agent Bering." He motioned for her to take the seat across from him. She did. Taking in her surroundings she noted the functionality of the layout and the classic décor. And it had a recognizable quality she couldn't quite place…

"It's a modified VC-25A. The prototype actually, I'm sure you're familiar with it." It's as if he was reading her thoughts.

Then it hit her. Maybe it took her a little longer than usual because it seemed like her traditional Secret Service work felt like a lifetime ago. "We did many a training exercise in these planes. I never got to fly in it, however, when it was being used as Air Force One."

"I think the President would even be jealous of some of the—alterations we've made in the past few years," The Decision Maker let on confidently.

"How long can it go without refueling? Standard 6,000 miles with mid-air fuel coupling capabilities?" Myka had always been impressed how far the plane could travel without stopping for gas. It sure came in handy.

"Fuel?" Kosan smirked as the extent of the alterations they had made sunk in.

"Oh, I see. Wow. The President should be jealous then." She was jealous too. This technology could revolutionize passenger vehicles as well. Always thinking about the practical application.

"It's still in the testing phase." How did he do that? "But we will be perfectly safe. It's just a short ride to where we're going." He took a sip from the glass resting near his right hand. "In the meantime, tell me how you've been enjoying your time as a Warehouse agent."

Through the cabin windows, the late morning sun was suddenly overtaken with dark storm clouds. Lightning shred the once-serene sky as Myka settled into her chair. "First, if I may bother you for a beverage. A strong one."

* * *

><p>They landed in the unknown. It was a different type of barren landscape than Myka was used to in South Dakota but the proximity to the mountains made her feel safe. Debarking, Mr. Kosan led her to a dark sedan and informed her that their destination was just down the lane. Before entering the vehicle, Myka turned and saw the mansion they must be heading to situated a mile away. It was spectacular.<p>

As they approached the property in the vehicle, Mr. Kosan turned to his side and addressed Myka straight on. "Agent Bering, I want you to know you always have a choice. Just as you chose to leave the Warehouse—and soon thereafter, chose to return—you have a choice in the following matter. You can choose to accept the reality of the situation and move on, or you can choose to keep things as they already are." He narrowed his eyes slightly and Myka could feel worry lines forming along her forehead. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

The vehicle stopped and the chauffeur opened Myka's door with an umbrella at the ready to shield against the sudden rain. Before exiting, Myka asked with a gesture if Mr. Kosan would be joining her and he shook his head. He told her he'd be in touch and ended the conversation with a dismissive wave. Confused, Myka looked towards the palatial manor and saw a lone figure near the front door. Could it be?

The chauffeur walked her as far as the edge of the awning and ran back to the car as Myka walked up the stairs to start her mission. The front door was standing open. She walked slowly across the porch, not knowing quite what was happening or what was expected of her. Helena followed shortly after and as the older woman's hand graced the small of Myka's back—as it had done so many times before—she felt it. Myka physically _felt_ it.

Spinning into the touch, the younger woman met her companion with wide-eyes and open mouth. "You're really here? This is really you?" Myka's fingers brushed across the coarse fabric of Helena's coat, trailing down of their own volition to skim the soft skin of the older woman's hand.

"'Mind, body, _and_ soul."

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you all so much for the birthday wishes! The big 2-7! (so old!) Anyone know if H.G. will be in any more episodes this season? I'm really _trying_ to stay within canon…Also, the next couple chapters are going to be SUPER angsty…just fyi. Also, it just started raining in my part of New Mexico. Pretty sure this story caused that to happen...


	6. There is a willow grows aslant the brook

A/N: The "blue pill" alluded to in the last chapter is like an Ambien or Lunesta (relaxation/sleeping pills). As to the 5k I'm training for, was going to do the Turtle run in Roswell, New Mexico (about 4 hrs from me) but my training partner pooped out on me so we are going to do a local 5k in October. I've now become one of those strange people that have embraced running.

Spoiler alert for "The 40th Floor"…and Shakespeare's "Hamlet". I suggest Googling "Millais' Ophelia" to see the painting referred to. It truly is a masterpiece. FYI, Myka's middle name is Ophelia. Special thanks to **Avarenda, LOCISVU, anonymous, tarebear23, KeikoKari, a shadow in the dark, Speak Volumes Silently, Fleebee, and Berolina! **for making this story a huge success. And a shoutout to **Sky That I Fell Through** who now ships Helyka as well as Pyka. :-) Ya'll make me insanely happy.

* * *

><p><strong>Stop-gap<strong>

**Part six**

Myka Bering walked through the open door in some sort of waking daze. Even though the physical contact had been removed, she could still feel heat resonating from the point on her lower back where Helena's fingers had rested a minute before. And how she missed that touch!

Helena directed Myka to take a seat with her on the ornately-decorated dark wood settee set against the north wall of the foyer. It provided a remarkable view of the showcased art piece hanging in the entry room. It also provided an intimacy between the two women severely lacking these past months.

"Is that what I think it is?" Myka pointed to the large painting in its gilded frame depicting a serene nature scene broken by an image of a young woman drowning in shallow water, eyes wide open and mouth agape.

"Sir John Everett Millais' crowning glory, 'tis. He was a rather close friend actually, almost a mentor." Helena genuinely smiled as she turned her head to appreciate the appreciative gaze Myka was giving the painting. "I had it removed from artifact storage as soon as I arrived. Something so precious should not be kept in a vault where no one has the pleasure of its visage." The older woman had leaned over so much that strands of hair fell across her face obstructing her face. She hurriedly pushed them behind her ear.

"I was named after her. Well, my middle name at least." Myka smiled, being so close to the inspiration her parents had chosen for her naming. "Well, after the Shakespeare character, not the painting."

Helena began to recite from memory a fragment of the monologue from _Hamlet_ that describes the death of Ophelia, "Her clothes spread wide, and mermaid-like a while they bore her up, which time she chanted snatches of old lauds as one incapable of her own distress, or like a creature native and indued unto that element." It struck H.G. how well Myka's parents had christened her. Perhaps to some Myka seemed naïve to what went on around her on most occasions, but Helena knew better. She knew the younger woman used that particular stereotype to her advantage…

"But long it could not be till that her garments, heavy with their drink, pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay…to muddy death," Myka finished. As soon as she'd been able to vocalize audible words, her father had forced her to memorize that particular passage. It was the most morbidly beautiful monologue the English language had ever produced. "It's supposed to be at the Tate Britain in London."

"There is a very similar reproduction displayed just there. But this original is imbued with properties proved detrimental to human emotion. The model for the painting, Elizabeth Siddal, fell quite ill during the commissioning of the piece and ever since it has caused rather extreme depression and anxiety to those who come in contact with it." Helena's voice was barely above a whispered husk as she relayed the information to her companion. It was remarkably exhilarating to be once again in the company of someone who she not only cared deeply for, but also retained a similar level of appreciation for English artistic novelties. "If it were to fall into the wrong hands, it would be a danger of William Robinson proportions." H.G. was proud of remembering the line Pete had used on more than one occasion.

Myka couldn't help but smirk; she'd definitely missed Helena's language missteps. "Um, I think you're looking for 'Danger, Will Robinson!'" The younger woman was still unclear as to why she was in this place and what was expected of her, but she was taking advantage of the time being allowed with this extraordinary woman she once loved. "Looking at it makes me miss my Dad."

"Weep not for the memories," H.G. supplied.

Myka began a search of her extensive mental archive of classic poetry; Shakespeare, Blake—even Alexander Pope, though she'd never admit it—and still drawing a blank. "I think I'm unfamiliar with that particular line…"

"It is some vocalist my maidservant listens to with regularity. Sarah McLachlan, I believe? Claire has a penchant for 'sad love songs'. Rather depressing, actually." H.G. artfully omitted the revelation that every one of the songs seemed particularly penned to reflect the tragic romance she'd shared with Myka. As if on cue, the young red-head entered the entrance room…

"Lunch is served, Miss." Claire had an innate skill of knowing where in the large house her mistress was at any given moment. But entering the foyer, she had no inclination that she was keeping company. "Oh, sorry to disturb. I didn't know you had a guest. You've had many guests recently…that man the other night—"

"That will be all, Claire, I thank you. Will it prove a problem to place another setting?"H.G. had tried to shut the younger woman up before revealing her recent exploits but the questioning gaze Myka fixed upon her expressed it was now common knowledge. She still tried to deflect with a, "you must be famished. Come, let us dine." Helena resisted the urge to grab Myka's hand as they walked towards the dining hall.

* * *

><p>Claire easily managed to set an extra place at the table for her mistress' guest. They were serving Chicken Caesar Salad and the chef always prepared extra in the event of such unannounced visitors. After serving the plates, Claire left the two women to their own devices.<p>

The first few minutes were spent in a comfortable silence as Myka and H.G. dug into their respective salads. Then the silence grew slightly strained. H.G. looked up and over, never growing tired of any opportunity she was given to admire Myka's beauty. The way any light source caught a twinkle in her eyes and made them sparkle, how her alabaster skin delicately curved along her cheekbone, sweeping upward to end beneath the most lustrous of hair Helena had ever had the pleasure to run her fingers through.

"So who was this _other_ _visitor_ you had over the other night?" Myka kept her tone light, but H.G. picked up the slightest twinge of jealousy. Though it may have just been wishful thinking on her part…

It was now the moment of decision. Helena could easily make something up, could have told the young woman that she'd had various business partners in and out within the last week and make it believable. But she chose the truth instead; Myka deserved nothing less.

"My gentleman caller alluded to by my chattering maid was in fact Pete." Helena took a deep breath before continuing with, "Myka, there is something I have to tell you."

"It was Pete? How could it be Pete? We've all been at Leena's the past three days." Myka stopped chewing and put her fork down.

"There is a good reason that I appear before you in human form and not as a projection. I am in no sense imprisoned by the Regents." H.G. paused, trying not to let the shocked expression of her companion soak in and cause her confession to retreat. "I am actually on my way to becoming one."

The next few minutes were spent explaining what actually transpired with her supposed reinstatement into the Warehouse field team. How she really had just wanted to rejoin as a field agent as she had told Myka on numerous occasions. How Kosan had insisted instead that she infiltrate the team and then orchestrate an elaborate plan to disable the recently-discovered Warehouse 2. How he then expected her to lead the team on a world-wide chase to stop her from "destroying the world" though in reality the Regents wanted to see how their team dealt with dire straits.

"In any event, it is my sincere wish to return to the Warehouse as a field agent now and give up any pursuit of being installed as a Regent. I want to come back to you, Myka." There it was. H.G. had laid it all on the table and it was now up to the younger woman to do with it what she will. Even H.G. couldn't imagine what came next.

"Did you even have a daughter named Christina? Did she even die?" As soon as the questions left her lips, Myka regretted them. Sitting directly across the table from Helena, she was spared none of the emotions passing along the older woman's face. Helena opened her mouth to respond then closed it quickly, her lips now forming a tight line. Tears began to well shamelessly in her eyes as she clutched the locket forever near her heart.

_Helena saw her daughter before her in play: ribbons, dolls, and books splayed about her bedroom in beautiful chaos. Her daughter's laughter filled her heart as she watched from the doorway. When Christina turned and smiled, beckoning her mother to join…the world was complete._

Shaking away the past, H.G. choked out a "yes." She took a sip of water, not trusting her voice to continue until she gathered her thoughts. She tried to understand the betrayal Myka must be feeling upon learning the truth of the Regent-planned training exercise, but it was proving impossible with the sudden onset of nausea hitting the older woman full force. "I did have a daughter and her name was Christina. And she was murdered." The tears finally began to fall, in stark contrast to Helena's voice which lacked any emotional intonation, "The Regents knew I would never agree to desecrate the tomb of my only child and the internment site you tracked me to in Paris was staged. The dates on the burial marker were not at all accurate." H.G. let out a mirthless laugh and quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks and eyes. She could see how talking about this could truly drive her to madness. "Did you really even think that I could-? Never mind. Please don't—"

Claire walked in and cleared her throat to gain her employer's attentions. H.G. turned her head slowly towards the young red-head. "Miss, you have visitors." H.G. leveled the young woman with a glare that could take paint off a wall. "Miss, _visitors_ that are not accustomed to waiting."

"Go. It's fine." Myka pushed her plate away. "I'm done anyway. I've lost my appetite." The older woman had never heard Myka sound so defeated. The emotionally-draining conversation had certainly taken its toll on both women, but Helena couldn't help but feel some sense of misplaced guilt.

Myka stood from the table and asked Claire if she wouldn't mind showing her to where she'd be sleeping. As Myka followed her out, she turned to face a still-seated Helena and said, "It's probably too late to arrange travel back to the Warehouse today. I'm going to leave in the morning." The young woman sighed and added, "I'm sorry, I can't do this H.G. It's just too hard." And with that she exited the room.

* * *

><p>H.G. knew her mysterious visitors would be awaiting her arrival in the solarium. And that is where the English lady walked towards with purpose. Or anger. Or sheer frustration. Throwing open the door she was greeted with two seated individuals—a bulking man and a no-nonsense woman who preceded her in age by a decade or so. The man spoke first.<p>

"Good afternoon, Miss Wells. My name is Mr. Jackson and I am here to discuss Regent security with you. I understand your probationary period will come to an end in five months. That is just enough time to brief you on the risks and regulations that will govern your tenure as a Regent."

"My entire life is unraveling before me and you wish to discuss my security regimen? Who the bloody hell are you? And who is she?" H.G. had regained the fire in her voice that had been lacking with her last confrontation with Myka. She was able to put thoughts of her Christina behind her for the moment and focus on the rage seething within her at this Regent establishment.

"Excuse my manners, this is Jane Lattimer—," Jackson continued unfazed. The light-haired woman's eyes widened at her failed attempt to have Mr. Jackson omit her last name.

"Lattimer. A rather familiar last name. Did Pete call his mummy to have her protect him from the big, bad, mustache-twirling villainess?" H.G. was done pulling punches.

"No, Jane Lattimer is a Regent and she is here to assist me in relaying the importance of the measures we will be taking to protect your life." Mr. Jackson kept his voice level; his experience in volatile situations was proving helpful.

"Pleased to meet you, subRegent Wells." Jane Lattimer thought better of offering her hand in greeting. "As to the situation with my son, I beg you to keep my status with this agency a secret. He doesn't know." Jane continued as H.G. took the seat across from her, "I'm aware of Agent Bering's visit and hope you will not mention my time here to her either."

"You know of Myka's visit?" Helena knew Mrs. F and Mr. Kosan were monitoring the proceedings, but didn't realize the rest of the Regents were privy to their conversations.

"We've practically set up a live twitter feed of your interactions with her. Are you familiar with the acronym 'FUBAR?' You should definitely Google it. I wish you luck with your mission to win her back and return to field agent status…but I really see no hope of your success." The older woman coolly brought her elbow to rest on the table, cradling her cheek between two fingers. "Plus, being a Regent _does_ have its perks. We could wipe her short-term memory and have her back at the Warehouse in time for us to have cocktails tonight if you so wish." Jane weighed the look in the younger woman's eyes. It was nearly feral.

"The only twits I see are those before me." When she couldn't decipher the details of what was being said to her, H.G. relied on her quick wit. This woman was proving irksome, though H.G. probably wasn't giving her any chance to be otherwise.

"Merely a suggestion," Jane drawled.

"If you ladies are finished exchanging pleasantries, I'd like to get started." From a briefcase he had opened on the table between them, Jackson removed a spiral-bound manual and hefted it to rest in front of Helena. It must have been at least 600 pages. And he planned on going over every single one of them.

* * *

><p>It was close to dinner time when Mr. Jackson released H.G. from her security briefing. Mustering the tiny bits of good-natured hosting she had left after hours of mindless information, H.G. walked her two guests out towards the foyer. On their way out, Myka emerged quickly from the nearby library and practically came face-to-face with the large man walking down the hallway. The man gave a quick "Agent Bering" in greeting as he walked past, his female companion having disappeared. Jane was trying her damndest not to be seen. "I'll show myself out, subRegent Wells and will be in touch." And with that he was gone, leaving Myka and H.G. in the hallway alone.<p>

"Who was that?" Myka let her curiosity get the better of her. "And how did he know my name?

"That was Mr. Jackson, the head of Regent security." It felt so good to not have to lie to the woman for a change. "And obviously your reputation precedes you."

The two exchanged an awkward glance before Myka continued, "Look, I'm really sorry for what I said back at lunch. The whole thing was just out of nowhere and I didn't know what to believe. But now that I've had some time to think…I was really insensitive."

"Understandably and I thank you for the apology. Perhaps there was a better way to relay the information to you that would have left fewer questions." H.G. bit her lip and then asked, "Maybe you would allow me the opportunity to answer more of your questions whilst we sup?"

It was breaking Myka's heart to see Helena look so anxious to please. If she was telling the truth and she really wasn't a threat to world security (which was becoming more plausible by the minute), then Myka should feel sorry for her predicament. Goodness knows if the same scheme was asked of Myka, her loyalty to the Warehouse would find her struggling to comply. But it was still hard to forgive everything that had transpired since Wyoming, especially Myka's own sudden (if short-lived) departure from Warehouse service. And there was this little, tiny, selfish inner voice that reminded Myka that Helena had chosen furthering her career over being with her.

"I've already requested that my dinner be brought to my room. I just wanted to grab a couple books. I'm sorry, Helena, I'm just not ready yet."Myka turned and continued down the hallway towards the staircase, each thudding step that much quieter and taking her that much farther from her former lover.

Standing in the passageway, Helena crossed her arms tightly across her body and clung to the hope embodied in that last word spoken: yet.

* * *

><p>AN: I don't think I've cried more tears writing a fanfic (nor gone through so much chocolate and wine). Busy week and going to Michigan this weekend so I hope to update Thursday or Friday. Stay with me!


	7. Her Diamonds

**A/N:** This story currently takes place after "3…2…1" and some time before "The 40th floor". I think I may have found a way to catch up with canon, at least through "Shadows" so stay tuned! Special thanks to **tarebear23, evilasylum8(first time reviewer!), Avarenda, jcsgc1, Kahlan35, LOCISVU, anonymous, Scoobydum, luvthejem, kuba65, elizabethlives!, and TheComet63** for reviewing the last chapter, you all keep me going!…and a dedication to my intern who served as the inspiration for "a very caffeinated H.G." after I made the mistake of buying her a triple-shot cappuccino.

**Music suggestion:** "Her Diamonds" by Rob Thomas during the final scene. You might want to start the song with the paragraph beginning "Do you mind if I come in and chat?"

* * *

><p><strong>Stop-gap<strong>

**Part seven**

Claire didn't like to see anyone in pain, not even the woman who was sometimes a thorn in her side. That is why it was not at all pleasant to enter the dining room with its massive table (it could easily fit sixteen) to find Helena very much alone. "It may be presumptuous to suggest, but I can stay and eat with you…if you'd like." Claire motioned to the two dinner plates she'd carried in from the kitchen.

"I thank you, yes." H.G. replied immediately. "Though I fear I won't be the best company." Helena looked up from the plate the girl had placed in front of her, remembering to ask, "Did you perhaps-?"

Claire knew what she was referencing without her mistress having to finish the question. "I brought her up a very nice plate a few minutes ago. She has everything she needs."

"I fear that is the problem." H.G. responded resignedly. Maybe it wasn't that Myka couldn't forgive her for what had passed between them…maybe she just didn't want to.

"It's funny; she wanted to make sure you were eating too." Claire took the seat across from her boss and dug into her dinner, looking up briefly to catch the slightest upturn of the older woman's lips in reaction to her confession. Helena began to eat with a little more fervor than she'd had in awhile. "So, what's the deal with you two?"

"Pardon? 'The deal'?" H.G. asked then shoveled a little more rice into her mouth waiting for clarification.

"I mean, what's your history with Agent Myka? Friends? Enemies? Frenemies?" H.G. tried not to wince at the continued butchering of the English language at the hands of her servant, instead she pondered how much to reveal to this young woman.

"That is a rather complicated question. To be concise, our _history_ includes a working relationship that quickly developed into something more." H.G. took a sip of water before continuing with a toast, raising her glass, "Here is to hoping history repeats itself."

"Doesn't it go something like 'those who don't learn from history are _doomed_ to repeat it'?" Claire asked, cutting a piece of her chicken breast.

H.G. wondered if Claire stumbled upon these notions quite by accident or if the red-head was more astute than she let on. "Perhaps 'doomed' is a better sentiment to describe my relations with Myka. Perhaps fate means to keep us apart."

"Hmmm…or maybe the two of you are keeping each other apart. I think that's more likely than _fate_."

"She will not even share a meal with me. What am I to do?" H.G. meant it as a rhetorical question, not intending to ask love advice from a girl who'd proved herself silly on ample occasions. That didn't stop Claire from responding…

"I think you need some grand gesture. Do you know how to play the guitar? I don't think flowers and chocolates are going to cut it if she won't even talk to you." Claire nodded her head, knowing she was right and took another bite.

"Why don't we sit here and appreciate this wonderful meal," H.G. gave her companion a plastic smile before continuing, "In silence." She looked down at her plate for the rest of the meal.

* * *

><p>Two in the morning and Helena was wide-awake: lying atop her bed's duvet, day clothes still on, in total darkness. "This will not do," she muttered to the empty room. She stood up.<p>

Pacing wasn't passing the time any better and did absolutely nothing to take her mind off the woman sleeping just down the hallway. She began to question whether this whole plan to "win Myka back" (as Irene had put it) was erroneously sought. Helena began an internal debate on whether a better path existed where she played the sullen martyr and just let Myka go on with her life in the Warehouse without her. Becoming a Regent would allow her the opportunity to monitor Myka's progress…but from afar and with no possibility of interaction (Kosan had made that rather clear when he proposed her Regency).

Maybe it was the temporary insanity that seems to set in during the wee hours of the early morning, but Helena could not imagine living her life without the other woman. And observing from a distance would certainly not be enough to satisfy her need. She needed to see Myka, hear her voice, to touch her. And love her. Helena ran her fingers through her hair and took in a shaky breath. This British woman knew torture and knew it well. But this anguish she currently suffered was soon becoming unbearable.

How could she win her back? She'd told her the truth and her intentions for coming back…what more could she say? Confessing undying love had never been Helena's strong suit, and Myka being of the practical sort, she didn't know how well romantics would play in their particular situation.

Or maybe she should learn to play the guitar…

Helena found herself suddenly in the hallway, walking towards the room at the end of the corridor. There was no plan in place, no speech to deliver; just her feet taking her physically closer to Myka. _So this is the madness sleep deprivation causes…_Helena stopped just opposite the closed door and placed her hand on the solid wood obstacle that stood between her and the woman she loved. She bowed her head and closed her eyes.

Inside, Myka pulled her gaze from staring at the ceiling to noticing the shadow crossing below the frame of the bedroom door. Usually knowing a figure was lurking just outside would put the agent on edge, but she knew with complete certainty who was standing there. She pulled the covers up tighter along her body, peeking over the top to keep the shadow in her line of sight.

Myka didn't know what she would do if Helena turned the knob on the unlocked door and came in. The more rational part of her brain blustered at the thought of an invasion of her privacy, especially from the woman she had been most recently avoiding. But Myka's heart—her heart wanted Helena to walk into her bedroom and never leave.

A few moments passed and the shadow was gone.

* * *

><p>The sun finally peaked its way over the New Mexico mountain range and H.G. took a moment to look out the vast library window and watch the sky change from lavender to orange. She took another sip of coffee. Claire was not in the habit of spending the night on the property and H.G. had managed to make the morning brew on her own. She was now deeply into her third cup at least.<p>

The creaking of the library door caught H.G.'s eye and as the door opened completely, she enthusiastically greeted her visitor, "Ah, Claire my dear. So good to see you!"

"I saw the light on and wondered if someone was here. You're up early?" Claire asked tentatively, taken slightly aback by her mistress's cheerfulness.

"'Up early' assumes one has been to sleep. Oh no, sleep doth elude me this weirded night!" H.G. proclaimed most dramatically, "Not to worry, I made my own coffee this morning."

Claire was afraid to ask but had to anyway. "And how did you make it?"

"Two parts water, one part coffee grounds of course! It is a standard measure. I couldn't be bothered with those teeny, tiny directions imprinted along the side of the coffee bag in something close to Latin." The older woman was emphasizing every point (and non-point, to be truthful) with grand hand movements. "Once I was able to find all the necessary ingredients and appliances, it went rather smoothly if I do say so myself. Perhaps it came out a little thicker than usual..." H.G. peered quizzically into the cup before quickly jerking her head up and smiling at her young helper, "Nonetheless! Crisis averted!" Claire wondered if H.G. realized the speed and volume with which she was speaking. This wasn't good. Not good _at all_.

"A little thicker than usual? I'm getting a rush just standing this close to it!" Claire squeaked.

The door to the library opened and Myka Bering made her early appearance for the day. H.G. jumped from her chair and greeted, "Myka! So good of you to join us! Come, sit, rest, relax, read, whathaveyou." Claire looked over and noticed the crazed smile plastered on her mistress's face.

"I came to return the books I borrowed," Myka explained sheepishly.

"Oh, feel welcome to keep them as long as possible. We've eliminated the daily rate and converted to a heftier weekly fee. Budget cuts and such, have to make it back where we can and all." Attempt at humor: fail. "Would you like some coffee?" H.G. made to pour a cup from the carafe she had made and Claire jumped for it as if she was saving a baby from oncoming traffic. The young red-head even mouthed a slow-motion "Nooooooo!" before grabbing the carafe for herself.

"Excuse me while I go retrieve a pot of coffee that _won't_ send your heart into certain cardiac arrest." Claire shook her head and left the room.

"Strange, that one," H.G. commented and smiled at her companion. Her coffee had all the pleasant effects of alcohol while maintaining alertness. This was soon becoming her poison of choice.

"Um, I do have a quick question. You said before that Pete was here the other night but you never said why?"

And then Helena's high came crashing down. She sighed deeply before responding, "To better answer the question, let us first define what was meant by 'here.' Pete and I did have a chat, but it was through the use of the holographic projection device." Myka's eyebrow raised in piqued interest as Helena continued, "In all honesty, I wanted to practice my delivery. I wanted to see if I could convince him that what I did was for the betterment of the Warehouse and its staff. And I succeeded."

"But he didn't say anything to us. He would have told me, for sure," Myka responded somewhat perplexed. She had no doubt Pete would have told her something as important as this, even if it was just to gloat that he had been a hologram.

"The entire interaction was removed from his short-term memory under my direction. It was simply enough to know that he believed me and would trust me in the event I am reinstated as a Warehouse agent."

"You wiped his memory? Are you going to do that with me too?" Myka's first reaction was to sense betrayal, a feeling becoming all too familiar where the other woman was concerned.

Helena took a moment to ponder the multitude of responses revolving in her mind, none of them seeming quite right. How do you answer a query such as that? It would not be solely up to her to decide whether or not Myka's memory need be tampered with at the conclusion of this little exercise. It may very well be for her own good that the recollection of these events be erased; living with doubt could be a dangerous thing for a Warehouse agent. And, selfishly, Helena couldn't bear the thought of Myka being out in the world and hating her. Wiping her memory was definitely the easier choice…but how to even broach such a—

"Coffee time!" Claire announced, reentering the room. "I brought some fresh-baked pastries too. Pierre brought them in from that wonderful patisserie in town." She'd brought the goodies in the hopes that the sugar and carbs would help soak up the caffeine coursing through her mistress's veins. Claire then looked at the two women in the library and instantly recognized a stalemate. _Perfect timing…_

"On second thought, it is _such_ a lovely morning and Agent—,Myka hasn't had the privilege to see the beautiful grounds." Claire turned to face the younger of the two women before continuing, "Why don't I take you for a little walking tour of our home away from home."

Claire ushered Myka to the doorway and turned back to face Helena, mouthing something the Brit deciphered and mouthed back as "Antiokhos". _Ah, yes, Antiokhos who is known for his 1__st__ century BC reproduction of the marble figure of Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom, courage and inspiration. _ Helena winked and gave Claire an over-exaggerated "a-okay" gesture.

_Oh brother_, the young maid thought to herself. "Why don't you wait just here," Claire placed Myka outside the doorway before coming back into the library, "I forgot something just there—" The red-head made her way back to H.G. and explained that she had said "I got this" meaning that she was going to butter Myka up for a swift reunion. Though H.G. had little confidence that anyone could lend her assistance in this particular scenario, she prayed that Claire's powers of persuasion were as great as the younger woman thought they were.

* * *

><p>Claire led Myka down one of the various dirt paths crisscrossing the property. On either side of the path were blooming desert plants called "ocotillos", their fiery red flowered tips being helped along by the recent monsoon storms. The fresh air always did wonders to help clear her mind. She hoped it would do the same for this visiting agent.<p>

"Can I just say I am _sooo_ glad you are here? Ms. Wells is so much more agreeable with you around." Claire smiled at the older woman, "You should have seen the mess she was before…when I first started working here. I thought I was going to be keeping house for a mental patient."

Curiosity got the better of Myka. "Really? She was that bad?" Myka tried to recall what H.G. had looked like as Mr. Kosan led her away from the Warehouse in handcuffs after they had returned from Wyoming. She'd repressed the memory for so long that it was proving difficult and instead she focused on listening to her companion's answer.

"Worse. If it hadn't been for Mrs. Frederick spending time with her—forcing her to eat and get out of bed—I don't know what would have happened. The first month was absolutely frightening. But then she started reading again, and tinkering away in her little workshop…I could still tell she was incredibly sad." Claire paused for effect before continuing, "And now I know what made her so sad. Leaving you."

Myka stopped walking and was all of a sudden out of breath. Catching it, she asked, "Did she tell you that? How would you know that?" What personal information had Helena revealed to her maidservant anyway?

"Oh no, she didn't say anything. But it is pretty obvious you two had something going on. Have you read _Twilight_? Neither have I, but I watched the movie. You guys have this like almost-comical brooding thing that really reminds me of the main characters. No offense." Maybe sniffing the coffee had really affected Claire, she felt like she was talking a mile a minute.

"Well, it's complicated." Myka succinctly explained. "Maybe too complicated."

"She's a really good person at heart, I just feel it. My mom says that I am excellent judge of character…unless it comes to cute frat boys, then I'm pretty useless." Claire shrugged her shoulders, "Everyone has to have their weaknesses I guess."

Myka couldn't help chuckling. She hadn't spent much time with Claire, but she could tell the redhead must be very popular with friends. Her carefree spirit and openness was refreshing; it reminded her of Pete. Or maybe it was her childishness that reminded her most of her partner. Either way, the young girl was right. Everyone does have their weaknesses. And Myka's was sitting in the library of the main house.

They wandered for a few more minutes, Claire pointing out various native plants and animals before she thought to ask a question. "Would you like me to have a call placed to Mr. Kosan?" Claire walked a little ahead of Myka when she asked, trying to hide the sly smile developing on her face. If the young woman did her job right, she knew what the answer would be…

"That won't be necessary," was Myka's only response. They headed back towards the manor.

* * *

><p>It was mid-afternoon and H.G. knew that Claire and Myka had come back from their little walk hours ago. When pressed for information, Claire gave up nothing and just suggested that H.G. talk to Myka until they came to an understanding. And that's what the British woman planned to do.<p>

Resisting the urge to just stand outside as she'd done this morning, Helena tentatively knocked on the door to the guest bedroom Myka occupied. Thinking the young women wouldn't have heard such a quiet knock if she was in the en suite, Helena knocked once more with slightly more force. Seconds turned into a minute and still no response. Releasing the breath she had unconsciously been holding, Helena turned and began walking down the hall. Blood rushed to her head, settling between her ears until all sound was blocked. That is why she was almost to the staircase before she heard her name being called. Turning back around, she saw Myka peeking over the side of the door frame and the older woman walked back towards her.

"Do you mind if I come in and chat?" H.G. asked, masking her nervousness with a toss of her hair and a smile.

It seemed an eternity before Myka nodded in the affirmative and allowed her to pass into the bedroom. They stood in the middle of the room staring at each other for another moment before H.G. asked if she had enjoyed her tour of the property. She thought it best to begin the conversation with some idle chatter and work her way into the deeper topics as they became more comfortable. Myka confirmed that the walk she'd taken with Claire was pleasant and that she was amazed at the variety of flora and fauna that thrived in such a desert environment. H.G. nodded along and at a natural break in the conversation, she began a little speech she'd prepared to address Myka's previous query.

"You asked me if I'd recommend that your memory be wiped of these events in the same manner Pete's recollection was altered. And the honest truth is that I do not really know what I would do. You must also understand that it is not solely my decision." H.G. took a deep breath before continuing, "You are here because I have been lobbying Mr. Kosan for quite some time to return to field agent status. He says his reluctance in the matter has to do with the possibility that my reinstatement would cause 'waves' within Warehouse 13 and its personnel. Now I believe that he does not want me back at the Warehouse because he values my particular—talents—here as a Regent. And yet he knows that I have the choice to walk away at anytime so he decided to indulge my request, stipulating only that everyone at the Warehouse accept me into the fold once more. Hence, your visit."

"When we traveled here, Mr. Kosan told me I _have_ a choice in the matter, too. He said I could choose to have things remain how they already are. What did he mean by that?"Myka crossed one arm over her body and brought the other one up until the fingers of one hand were resting in question across her lips.

"Mr. Kosan is very skilled at what he does." H.G. crossed her own arms over her chest and gave a wry sideways smile. "His first priority is and always will be the Warehouse; that is his job. Though he has some regard for the lives of agents and regents, that regard stems from what those agents and regents can add to the organization. He wants me to fail in this attempt to win you over so he can keep me closer. But, he is right, I will always give you a choice." Helena sighed deeply, "Myka, it may be easier for you, too, if the memories are removed and you go back to the way things were…believing what you believed and that I betrayed you." _Easier for you, but most definitely not for me._

They were still standing, facing each other. Any casual observer would think they were sizing each other up like two lionesses from different prides on the edge of their respective territories. But neither woman knew what to do next until Myka began to break.

"You don't understand, I still see the questions in their eyes: What's her tipping point? When is she going to leave us again?" The young woman relayed, the emotion making its way into her voice. Myka's Warehouse team had long ago become her family. And to have them walk on eggshells around her, treating her like an abused puppy, was just too much. It seemed at times that she would never fully get their trust back.

Previous to this point, Helena had only looked at the incident from her point-of-view: that she had been the seemingly blameless culprit in the Regents plan to prove their agents worth. She hadn't much harped on the fact that Myka had fought her own demons when the outcome was determined. Myka had left the Warehouse of her own volition with no promise of return. Helena saw the pain in the younger woman's eyes and realized this was something that had been growing since her betrayal in Egypt and compounding until this very moment.

Myka sank to the floor, her back leaning against the bottom edge of the bed which kept her upright. Helena took a seat next to her, mimicking her outstretched legs and keeping her gaze straight ahead. From the use of her peripheral vision, Helena made out the tell-tale sign of crying: the sudden intake of breaths and the shaky exhale. Her heart broke even more if that was at all possible.

Myka may not have been ready to accept Helena back, but the older woman didn't care. Helena needed to offer strength and support to this broken woman next to her, even if it was just from one human to another. Helena placed her hand over Myka's hand that had been firmly planted between them and let her own tears fall…silently. She didn't know what else to do. They sat like a tableau as the minutes ticked away. Myka turned her hand over and firmly grasped Helena's, allowing the older woman to feel the sobs wracking her companion.

Finally, the younger woman spoke. "There is just so much sacrifice involved with Warehouse work; it's hard to believe that it is worth it. But I think it is." Myka's voice was cracked with crying as she spoke. "What if I have to lose you again?"

This was not the time to sugar-coat; Helena vowed honesty with Myka as soon as her visit began yesterday. "There is a real possibility that it may happen; that we may be separated due to circumstances currently unforeseen." Helena used her free hand to wipe away her own tears. "But I believe our work is not only worth it, but _we_ together are worth it too." The older woman looked over at her beautiful companion, waiting until she met her gaze before adding, "If it is one night or a thousand nights, I cannot imagine anyone else I would rather share my life with."

The smallest upturn of full lips began to break across Myka's face. She knew—felt it down in her very bones—that Helena had just told her the undeniable truth. It would be a long journey back to the trust they had once shared, but the healing had commenced.

"No more talking," Myka whispered, turning to face the other woman and bringing their bodies closer together atop the hardwood floor. The younger woman brought her hand up and brushed away the last of the tears marring Helena's face, blinking back her own unshed ones. Myka cupped the back of Helena's neck, slipping past the silky strands she had missed so much and pulled her close enough to taste her next breath. Pressing her lips against Helena's felt like coming home. A home she never wanted to leave.

* * *

><p>AN: Zomg…H.G. in the season finale! Ahhh! Did I say I would catch up with canon? Pshhh. These chapters are getting harder and harder to write… I apologize for the delays…encouragement in the form of reviews is GREATLY appreciated.


	8. Heel, Toe, Dosido

A/N: Taking a break from all the angst with a fluffy chapter and giving myself a little more time to reconcile this story with the latest season finale (I just finished dealing with the _last_ season finale…gah!). Sorry if I ruined Claire for her fans in this chapter, just had to add another level.

Special love and thanks to **LOCISVU, tarebear23, tangent, Kahlan35, Kalyxia, anonymous, tigga123, jcsgc1, SanctuaryW13, lalunatikat, AntigoneFive, SeetheRed, VeranoLaw(yay!), and 2FaceMyFate** for reviewing the last chapter (it makes me happy to have such a distinguished reading group with many talented writers). Ya'll make me so happy and keep me excited about writing for these two!

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><p><strong>Stop-gap<strong>

**Part eight**

Claire sat unmoving, arms crossed at her chest as she peered intently at the screens before her. Being one of the two occupants of the room, the sound emanating from the video feed was kept low and at some points during the conversation Claire had to rely on body language to decipher what was passing between the two women.

Until they kissed.

At that point, Claire lifted her fist to the air and let out a very unladylike "Huzzah!" She leaned over and made to give Mrs. Frederic a high five but was rejected with a level-ten glare.

"Do you believe Mr. Kosan would appreciate your reaction?" Mrs. F asked rhetorically, but she knew the young girl wouldn't be able to resist responding.

"Probably not." Claire answered as defiantly as she could, which was not very defiant at all.

"Do you believe he would appreciate your undue influence over the situation? I believe your orders were to facilitate status quo and keep subRegent Wells safe, not convince Agent Bering that forgiveness was within her capacity." The severity of Mrs. F's words was cut by the slightest twitch of her lips upward.

"Mr. Kosan didn't know what was good for him." Claire emphasized her reasoning with casual wave of her right arm. "He didn't realize the advantage of having two very good agents very much together."

"It didn't end too well with Jack and Rebecca," Mrs. F reminded, raising an eyebrow.

"My great Aunt Rebecca would beg to differ if she was here I'm sure. She was a major proponent of fraternization between agents as you're well aware. And I felt it was my _personal_ duty to do everything in my powers to help Agent Myka and Miss Wells find their way back to each other…even if it involved exaggerating the ditzy college girl angle." Claire re-crossed her arms and sank back into her seat.

"You play silly so well." Mrs. F offered the observation as a backhanded compliment.

"So I've been told on many occasions." Claire smirked wryly, "Who says I'm playing at it? I find when you're a covert operative, sticking as close to the truth as possible can keep you alive a lot longer than building a tangled web of lies." Claire shrugged as she finished.

"Are you just trying to distract me from monitoring?" Mrs. Frederic asked seriously. Claire peered over the older woman's shoulder at the fuzzy surveillance screens dominating the room's décor and smiled more broadly.

"Do we really need to continue? I think we know how this is going to turn out. Why don't you call Mr. Kosan and…_tell__him__the__good__news_?" The last bit was added sarcastically and Claire knew she was skating on thin ice, but seeing the two agents finally come to terms with their relationship filled the young woman with a euphoric giddiness she couldn't contain. "I'll give them a few minutes then ask what they'd like to do for dinner." Claire leaned over to get a better look at the bottom screen currently focused in on the two women in question. "I have a feeling they'll be famished."

As the redhead left her chair and made her way to the door, the briefest glimpse of an eye of Ra tattoo marring the skin of the young girl's torso above her right hip became visible. If Mrs. Frederic hadn't known what to look for, she would have completely missed the telltale mark of the Regent security detail.

Warehouse work definitely ran deep within certain families…

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><p>Kissing Myka—feeling the younger woman's lips move against her own—hit home how much Helena had missed these intimate moments. Having Myka's fingers tangle in the hair closest to the nape of her neck was Helena's undoing; having Myka's other hand squeezing the flesh along her hip kept her begging for more.<p>

"Myka, as much as I am utterly enjoying these current activities, I must ask if we could perhaps move this to the bed?" H.G. cleared her throat to rid herself of the all-to-guttural tone she'd pleaded with.

"To the bed?" Myka squeaked, the tears that had overtaking her countenance just minutes before all but forgotten.

"I feel I need to lie in the prone position in order for the feeling to return to my legs. They are burning madly." H.G. unconsciously began to rub her extremities that had inadvertently fallen asleep due to awkward positioning and a _very_ hardwood floor. Myka stood first and helped her companion to her shaky feet, not knowing how much of the unstableness was due to leg muscle spasms or to pent-up passion. Myka kept hold of Helena's hand as they stretched out atop the overstuffed comforter. After wiggling into a comfortable position, both women found themselves staring at the ceiling with their only physical connection being their joined hand.

"Sooo…" Myka started unsurely.

"Yes. Exactly." H.G. responded, not knowing how to begin or even what to say.

"Read any good books lately?" Myka's smile could clearly be heard in the question. It was refreshing to feel its return.

"Not necessarily novels. I've found myself reading quite a bit of poetry lately. Rather of a dark sort, some Dante Rossetti."

"He was married to Ophel—err, Elizabeth Siddal, wasn't he?"

"Yes. And after her death he wrote some magnificently tragic pieces. Are you familiar with his poem 'Without Her'?" H.G. turned her head in the pillow as Myka did the same. Now face-to-face, H.G. was able to pick up Myka's unfamiliarity with the poem through a shake of young woman's head. Helena began to recite from memory, closing her eyes because the emotions echoed within the words still burned with aching familiarity, "_Without __her? __Tears, __ah __me!__For __love__'__s __good __grace, __and __cold __forgetfulness __of __night __or __day._" Helena felt Myka's palm enfold her cheek, the young woman's thumb caressing the side of her face. "_What __of __the __heart __without __her? __Nay, __poor __heart, __of __thee __what __word __remains __ere __speech __be __still?_" The British bard opened her eyes and was met with a reflection of complete acceptance.

"I'm here now." Myka meant more than physically and she conveyed with her look that she was with Helena emotionally too.

"Okay," was H.G.'s breathed response…

Claire knocked nice and loud on Myka's door, resisting the urge to barge in and instead waited somewhat patiently for someone to answer. After some noticeable rustling and mumbled obscenities, both women made an appearance within the now-open doorframe looking only the slightest bit disheveled.

"So Pierre took the night off and left me instructions on how to warm up his world-famous tuna noodle casserole…and I burnt it to smithereens. So what I can do for you is make you some turkey sandwiches, or—" Claire looked at the two women until she knew she had their full attention, "_Or_ you can go out and grab some dinner in town. FYI, Marco is waiting on standby to drive you."

"Do we have a choice in the matter?" Helena questioned.

Claire shook her head and mouthed a 'no' before adding, "I'll go grab your coats and hats." The young redhead disappeared before either woman could begin to protest.

"Did she say hats?"

"I believe she did. It worries me, Myka. It worries me a great deal." H.G. held the younger woman's gaze a second longer before they both burst into laughter.

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><p>When Claire had proposed Myka and H.G. go out to grab some dinner, the two women naturally thought they'd be taken to one of the many chain eateries or perhaps a more adventurous local joint. What Marco drove them to was definitely a local joint…but it put adventurous to shame. There were more neon lights per square inch on the façade of the restaurantbar than in the entirety of downtown Las Vegas. And that was saying something. Not to be outdone by the flashing signs, twangy beats of music soared through the rustic wooden entrance at such decibels to echo inside the still closed-off car.

"Okay ladies, this here is what we like to call a honky-tonk. Claire thought ya'll would have some fun at this place and they have the best barbeque this side of the Texas state line." The women didn't know if Marco was emphasizing his Southern accent for their benefit or to add credence to the legitimacy of the establishment, but he was laying it on pretty thick. "If you run into Marty Jo, tell her I sent you and ya'll will probably get a round free. I'll be in the area when you're ready to go," he handed a card with a number where he could be reached to H.G. "But take your time and feel free to kick up your boots. No one takes themselves too seriously in there." Marco's gaze went from one woman sitting in the back seat to the other, realizing that he'd never seen two people wear cowboy hats more awkwardly. "You can leave the Stetsons if you want to."

"Oh, thank God!" Myka exclaimed as she whipped the hat off and shook out her curls.

"I like mine." H.G. ran a finger along the wide brim sitting above her forehead. "Do not you think it makes me look…debonair?" Myka did nothing more than stare at her companion blankly, unable to comprehend her attachment to the bulky headpiece. "That's it then, I'm keeping it," H.G. exited her side of the vehicle and came round to open Myka's door. "Shall we?"…

Upon entering, it shocked Myka how bustling the place already was at such an early hour. And on a weekday, no less. Maybe they could get some good food out of this joint after all. The women made their way to the side of the establishment marked off for food (one would assume given the ten or so long wooden table and benches arranged for community dining) and stood in front of a section that was relatively empty.

Usually when one is posed with this specific layout of seating options, one chooses to sit on the opposite bench from their dining companion. Once Myka sat down on the corner of one of the benches—the bench closest the wall—H.G. saddled up right next to her. "I'm famished," Helena reached across Myka's body, mumbling a 'pardon me' as she picked up a paper menu from the edge of the table. "Hmmm…you will most likely need to explain what all this gibberish means. What is 'lip smackin'? That sounds rather erotic…" H.G. scooted closer, pointing to the word on the menu and looking up at Myka until the brim of her hat brushed the younger woman's forehead.

"Uhh…it just means like—," Myka couldn't help but gulp, her next breath filled with sandalwood and jasmine: a scent uniquely Helena. "Tasty. It tastes good."

"Does it now? Hmm…tasty." Myka felt H.G.'s hand come to rest on her knee. "I like the sound of that." Myka patted the warm fingers squeezing below her thigh then picked them up to return them to their owner. The waitress also _picked_ that moment to walk up.

"Uhh, we'll have the house barbeque special. And…what beers do you have on tap?" Myka tried to sound knowledgeable even though it'd been awhile since she'd had to frequent a bar for pleasure alone.

"We have regular and light," was the waitress's curt response. Not what Myka was expecting at all.

"Why don't we start with two servings of tequila and if you would please also bring us one of those big pots of the regular beer, we'd be ever so grateful." Helena motioned to the pitcher sitting at a nearby table then looked up at the waitress from under the brim of her hat and gave her a winning smile.

"Sure thing." The waitress returned the smile, succumbing to the charms inherent in any British accent.

"You always manage to do that." Myka shook her head, trying to cover the smirk that was forming.

"What's that, darling?" H.G. was doing it again; drawing out her syllables to accentuate her accent.

"Lure people in with your foreign charisma. Doesn't seem fair." Myka whined half-heartedly.

"I try to only use my powers of persuasion for good if that makes you feel better." It didn't make Myka feel better. It just made her feel very, very warm.

Luckily the drinks arrived and food soon after that and both women fell into companionable conversation…Myka trying to keep the chatter from falling into dangerous flirtation. Which was becoming harder and harder the more they imbibed.

The food tables started to clear out and the bar area was seeing more action as the music was cranked up even louder (was that even possible?) to accommodate the growing number of gyrating patrons."Let us dance! It looks rather diverting." H.G. scoped out the crowd making their way onto the dance floor in specific order.

"Umm. I don't know if that's a good idea. This is a line dance, a _country_ line dance." Myka's eyes widened as more people joined into the group number.

"Do you think your nation invented this type of spectacle? Darling, I was performing country dances as soon as I could properly walk, just like every other British toddler. I believe I will be able to muddle through this—what do you call this dance?"

Myka listened to a few bars of the first verse before the chorus hit and a light bulb went on in her useless trivia mind closet. "I think this is the 'Boot Scootin' Boogie'."

"Pardon?"

"Do you want to dance or not?" Myka brought her arms across her chest somewhat defensively.

"Of course, I just did not know if you sneezed and I should say 'God Bless You'." Helena gracefully extricated herself from the bench and stood beside a still-seated Myka.

"_Boot __Scootin__' __Boogie_ is the name of the song…and dance I guess. Very popular in the 1990s."

"Glad I skipped that decade then." H.G. smirked, then offered her hand to her companion. "Only kidding. Sounds like a marvelous era in American culture. Here," H.G. opened and closed her proffered hand, beckoning Myka to take it, "Show me."

Myka had suffered through a few months of dance classes as a young girl: ballet, tap, and jazz. Once her mother realized the tutus and tights were killing her daughter's spirit, Myka was allowed to join Little League. But through her brief venture into the world of Miss Linda's School of Dance, Myka had learned plenty about herself. Above all, she learned that she was horrible at choreography. Now she wished she had downed her beer a little faster. She was way too sober to embark on such an endeavor.

As she took H.G.'s hand, she noticed the older woman intently gazing at the dancers already moving through the lines. Helena led her to the end of a line that didn't seem as intense as the dancers towards the front. Those cowboys and cowgirls could only be described as hardcore. The twirling, the shimmying, and the boot slapping were already making Myka dizzy and she hadn't even tried it yet. The young woman could feel a blush creeping from the back of her neck up to blaze upon her cheeks. Only H.G. could get her into situations like this…

"This is very manageable, Myka. It is composed of thirty-two counts to the turn, broken into four count maneuvers." H.G. placed Myka next to her in the line and looked around to see when the next set would start. She felt Myka stiffen as she explained. "It's four to the right with a clap, then four to the left with a clap." They were coming up on a new set and Myka just looked at H.G. mouth agape.

"How did you pick it up so quickly?" Myka felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest and she tried to control her breathing lest she hyperventilate.

"You are thinking too much. It is best not to overanalyze this; the steps are rather simple and repeat with every quarter turn. Just—there now," H.G. joined into the movements with the rest of the crowd. "Follow me then." Besides a slight miscue with her hands on one of the flair movements, Helena had the dance down the first time. Myka could do nothing but stare. On the next quarter turn, Helena jumped behind the younger woman and put both hands on either side of Myka's waist to better guide her. H.G. pushed her to the right then pulled her to the left, moving Myka's hips side-to-side for a shimmy step. This was doing nothing to encourage Myka to learn the steps on her own: having Helena's hands grasping her sides and using her body to guide the younger woman through the steps was something she didn't want to have stop. Why would she want to become proficient at the dance when Myka could just lean back into Helena's embrace? It felt too good…

Soon enough the "Boot Scootin' Boogie" came to its final boot scoot and a romantic two-step began to play through the dance floor speakers. Some of the line dance participants moved back towards the bar while others began to pair off. Myka was at a loss for what to do next. She turned to face Helena, the older woman's hands still secure on her hips. "I think I could figure out how to sway along to this song if you want to continue…" Myka trailed off and bit her lower lip to wait for a response. H.G. had to lift her head for her face to be seen under the brim of the cowboy hat she refused to take off, but it was clearly evident by the smoldering desire flowing through her darkened pupils that she most certainly wanted to continue this particular foray. Helena pulled Myka in closer, as close as her Stetson would allow. Her hands moved from Myka's waist to encircle the entire woman's body, her fingers splayed possessively over the younger woman's lower back as they moved to the slow, twangy beats. Helena lifted her head more and she felt Myka's head rest on her shoulder, could feel Myka's breath tickle the tender skin above her shirt collar. The older woman sighed contentedly and closed her eyes to revel in the bliss of having Myka in her arms once more. Until she felt a tap on her shoulder.

A rather tall and rugged sort of man stood behind H.G., waiting for acknowledgement of his rude interruption. He spoke, "May I cut in?" He was asking permission from H.G., but looking at Myka with hunger in his eyes. When he breathed, the distinct smell of too much alcohol could easily be discerned.

"No," Myka cleared the husk that had developed in her throat before continuing. "No, you may not." The hunger in the intruder's eyes quickly lapsed to anger and Helena turned to face him, putting her body between him and her companion.

"Actually, sir, we were just about to leave. I need to get my sister here to bed. Her manners improve greatly when she's better rested." H.G. thought it best to interject with an excuse rather than take the man down with martial arts. Though she could easily disable and disarm practically any foe that came her way, Helena came to realize that sometimes it just wasn't worth the consequences.

"Sisters, huh?" The man pulled a toothpick from nowhere and stuck it between his teeth.

"Precisely. Now if you'll excuse us." H.G. grabbed Myka's hand and headed towards the exit. Once outside, the cool night air was welcome relief on overheated skin. The older woman put Myka in a rocking chair situated on the honky tonk's porch and pulled out the cell phone she'd been given recently. "Marco, if you would be so kind as to come retrieve us. I fear we may get ourselves ejected from this establishment if we dally much longer."

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><p>It's not like they had even had that much to drink, but standing in front of H.G.'s bedroom had Myka's head swimming dizzily. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling because she knew her inability to catch her breath stemmed from the intoxication a certain British female caused and not some physical deficiency. Myka squeezed Helena's hand as the older woman opened the door and showed her in, not even bothering to ask if she'd care to join her.<p>

Helena kissed Myka on the cheek before grabbing a chair from her desk and setting it up against the wall facing the bed. Grabbing a miniature toolkit, H.G. leapt onto the chair and began fiddling with a device attached near the molding. "If I replace the memory card within the surveillance camera with this pre-recorded one..." Now it was clear why Claire and H.G. had been whispering in the entry way when they arrived home and also explained the discreet handoff the two hadn't been so discreet about.

"How is that even possible?" Myka whispered, ever wary of getting into trouble.

"You deal with artifacts that defy logic on a daily basis and _this_ is what you question?" Using the screwdriver, H.G. flipped open a tiny slit of the mounting unit and ejected the microchip to replace it with the one Claire had given her.

"Where did you even learn how to do that?" Myka asked in awe.

"Claudia showed me a few of her tricks throughout the short duration of my stay. Who knew how handy they would prove?" Dismounting and placing the replaced card in an upper desk drawer, Helena made her way to her computer. A few clicks on her laptop and H.G. closed the machine to face Myka, instantly putting the younger woman at ease with a disarming smile. "There now, all yours and no prying eyes."

"All mine to do what with?" Myka asked innocently, though it did nothing to cover the desire coursing through her hard stare.

"Acting demure is not your strong suit, my dear." H.G. commented before adding with a slightly feral growl, "Come here already."

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><p>AN: I haven't been able to watch the season finale again…have you? I have it DVR'ed though…Also, making the next chapter "M" unless there are some serious objections. Will I lose anyone by upping the rating?


	9. A Long Time Coming

A/N: Yeesh! Long time coming, amirite? Might want to go back and read previous chapters to refresh, maybe starting at chapter 2 or 3 because the first chapter kinda sucks. Thanks to **RayenofDeadStarsAndPlanets, 2FaceMyFate, SeetheRed, tarebear23, emeraldpriestess, anonymous, LOCISVU, Kahlan35, Xenite, MadamRegal, a shadow in the dark, E, and FaBbEr0oZ** for reviewing the last chapter and keeping me motivated to continue…

Special thanks to **CdB55** for your review as well as your inspiring PM that spurred me to finish this sooner rather than later!

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><p><strong>Stop-gap<strong>

**Part nine**

This time, Myka's nervousness was not an act.

Playing coy had been one of her proven ways of turning Helena on and she defaulted to the action as she was faced with imminent intimacy. But this time it went beyond the usual submissiveness she offered up to her lover: Myka was genuinely fearful of reigniting their relationship.

Yet she couldn't stay away.

H.G. moved with ease in the darkened room, sitting on the edge of her bed and staring at the younger woman; her earlier request of summoning Myka to her still hung in the air. The curtains had been pushed aside on the large bay window allowing both brunettes to be bathed in moonlight. Her voice barely above a husky whisper, every word resonated in the quiet room as Helena said, "You are absolutely breathtaking, my dear. Absolutely and completely." The older woman lifted her hand and held it out to be taken.

Myka smirked, wrapping her arms around her body and lowering her head briefly, curls falling across her face. Myka had never been popular in school—secondary or college—and years of snide remarks and general loneliness had left a healthy amount of scar tissue around the self-confidence she felt as a woman. She was good enough at faking it most of the time, but Myka constantly fought this unfounded feeling of inadequacy. And with just a few genuine, soft-spoken words of compliment, the wounds beautifully eroded.

She floated across the hardwood floor and took Helena's hand, missing the seat beside her and crashing them both into the plushness of the bed below. Lying on their sides with their legs still hanging over the side of the bed, the two women took a moment to just stare at each other and realize the magnitude of finding themselves back together once more.

Helena's hand softly stroked the skin covering Myka's perfect cheekbone. "Upon closer inspection, I must say that my last statement was woefully inadequate."

"Is that right?" Myka questioned, her usually sure tones cracking with her whisper.

"Yes. For upon further review," Helena's thumb lovingly brushed across the younger woman's full lips, "I must declare you to be the most handsome women to ever grace this wonderful world."

"Ever, you say?" Myka pulled the other woman's body closer, wrapping one arm securely around her waist. "You can't just make a blanket statement like that. You haven't known every woman_ ever_."

"I have known enough to make an intelligent assumption." As soon as the phrase was out of her mouth, H.G. regretted it. She'd meant to be smooth and reassuring but it was quickly turning into a game of wits. Next time she'd learn to temper her compliments.

"Are you trying to seduce me or make me jealous?" The younger woman didn't sound too serious: a very good sign she took the banter playfully.

"Let us try less chatter and more—"the older woman pulled Myka in for a passion-filled kiss, lingering over soft lips as her hand moved down to caress Myka's neck. She rolled them over until she was on top, Myka's curls making an enticingly dark halo against the starkness of the light-colored comforter. The kiss deepened, both women realizing how much they missed this intimate contact. "But I do believe one thing we can both most definitely agree upon is that we are wearing much too much clothing at present."

H.G. reluctantly lifted her body away from the sweet contact and instead straddled Myka, holding the younger woman's body below her as she made a show of unbuttoning her shirt. Myka made to touch the newly-exposed skin but her hand was batted away as she was given the command to look but not touch…yet. The final button unbuttoned, she shrugged out of the light denim top and tossed it on the floor. One flick behind her back and Helena's bra soon joined the growing pile of discarded clothing. A pile she quickly added to with Myka's shirt and strapless undergarment.

Helena summoned all the self-restraint she had left as she slowly lowered herself back onto Myka's now-naked breasts. It was worth her unhurried nature to hear the moan of pleasure escape from below as her hardened nipples grazed and pushed against Myka's own. Helena resumed kissing the younger woman with slightly more fervor, her tongue plunging between pliant lips to explore the heated recesses of Myka's mouth. Every breath was shared and became more and more humid as Myka's fingertips scraped erotically across Helena's back.

The older woman began placing kisses all along Myka's jawline, giving loving attention to her chin and hollow of her neck. Helena nipped and licked the sensitive skin above Myka's collarbone, feeling the vibrations of the younger woman's verbalized desire. Suddenly, Helena's head was being pulled upward and she was gazing into Myka's smoldering eyes as she began to speak.

"Make love to me." The request was breathless and brutally honest.

"With pleasure." H.G.'s eagerness was spurred into action and she made quick worth of divesting both of them of their remaining attire. Staying on top, she slid her body down Myka's own as she laid a path of searing kisses down milky skin starting in the valley between her breasts. As she worked her way south, Helena could feel Myka's muscles tense beneath her ministrations. Helena moved Myka closer to the center of the bed as she kneeled between the woman she adored, looking over the expanse of beauty laid out before her.

She slid a single digit into Myka's waiting wetness and rubbed it past Myka's swollen nub of nerve bundles as she went deeper.

"Helena, yes." The affirmation was just a sigh but the older woman could hear the surrender it offered. Instantly her eyes welled with moisture, taken aback by Myka's ability to forgive her unconditionally. She didn't deserve it—nor her—but made a note to strive to in the future.

And now to take care of the more immediate future, she slid another finger in to join the first. She could feel Myka tighten around her fingers, arching her body and inviting Helena deeper inside. They found a steady rhythm as the older woman's unoccupied hand sought out Myka's palm, twining their fingers together as she thrust harder. She could feel Myka was close as she added a third finger, Helena's heel of her hand making deliberate contact with the younger woman's clit.

It was such a glorious sight to once again see Myka's gasps of pleasure animate her beautiful face and to feel the other woman's body responding so easily to her every touch. Helena couldn't take her eyes away as she led Myka over the edge with a cry of ecstasy she'd craved hearing for so many months.

With the final waves of her orgasm fading, Myka welcomed Helena's embrace as she pressed their naked bodies together. "I forgot how amazing we could be together." Myka caressed Helena's slick side before resting her hand just above the curve of her hip. "Now let me make you feel as good as you've made me feel." The younger woman's eyelids drooped suddenly; not from renewed passion but from tiredness. Helena picked up on it right away and knew immediately she should delay her own moments of pleasure.

"We have all the time in the world, my love. Now we should rest." Helena took a moment to memorize every bead of sweat that had been made manifest by their lovemaking. Each tiny piece of crystal moisture glowed brighter in the moonlight as she bent closer to kiss Myka's swollen lips soundly. She swallowed Myka's contented sigh and continued to kiss her for the next few minutes before they both fell into much-needed sleep.

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><p>There were times when Claire hated her job. She had been stationed in Egypt as first recon after the three boys had disappeared near the Warehouse 2 site and that had been pretty unpleasant. Luckily, she'd been extracted prior to the antics caused by the Regents little field training exercise. Claire was logical enough to understand the reasoning behind the decision to test the Warehouse agents, but she was still young enough not to trust herself to interfere on principle alone.<p>

She hated that situation but she hated the one she now found herself in even more.

Running down the hallway and clad in full tactical Regent security gear, the young woman knew the missive she'd received from her bosses wouldn't have been sent if it wasn't absolutely urgent. Her growing concern about her own safety and the safety of her colleagues briefly took second fiddle to the fact that she was about to meddle in something still so fragile.

She opened the door without knocking.

"I apologize most sincerely for this horrible intrusion," Claire took a breath before continuing, taking that moment to survey the scene before her: two beautiful women—hair mussed—with only the bed sheet they clung to covering their apparent nakedness. "There is a pressing matter of Regent security and I must secure subRegent Wells."

"But, Claire, you—I don't—" H.G. was tongue-tied and not in the good way. This was the last thing she'd expected from her maidservant. She pointed at Claire's get-up.

"Oh yeah. I'm really Warehouse security personnel. Surprise!" The red-head threw her hands up in the air in a failed attempt at humor. "Long story that I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to relay to you on our way to the safe-house. Agent Bering, transport has been arranged for you back to the Warehouse. You'll be briefed on the helicopter." Claire went to the armoire against the closest wall and pulled a few articles from inside. "Now, I need for both of you to get up." She tossed the clothing towards the bed before commanding, "Fast."

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><p><strong>To be continued...<strong>

(hopefully in less time than the almost two years for this chapter :)


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